


If You Ask Nicely

by relinquish_one_bullet



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22175113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relinquish_one_bullet/pseuds/relinquish_one_bullet
Summary: Gwendolyn met Geralt on the verge of trying to kill him. Things can only go up from there, right?Explicit rating for later chapters.Doesn't follow a direct canon storyline but there are mentions of other characters throughout.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

_“There’s a witcher in the healing huts.”_

_Gwendolyn snapped her head up, pausing from sipping on the bowl of broth in front of her and raised an eyebrow. The other initiates, mostly poor peasantry, eyed Gloria nervously as she faced them all with a wide grin, disrupting dinner entirely. A few of the girls murmured in disbelief, going back to their food._

_“It’s true.” She stated, “I saw Mother Nenneke bring him in.”_

_“But what’s a witcher doing here?” One of the new girls, Alice, asked with a frown_

_“He looks dead. Wasn’t moving. Bleeding all over the place.” Gloria replied with a shrug, “Probably one of the forest monsters got to him.”_

_Gwendolyn doubted Mother Nenneke would bring a dead witcher into the sanctuary. Still, to have one so close…her emotions flared so easily. She felt her throat constricting, her fingers bunching into fists. She tried to reign herself in, the fire below the stew pot popping and sputtering erratically._

_“We should go see him.” It was Irene this time, bolder than the others, trying to rile them up_

_“Mother Nenneke forbade it.” Gloria replied despondently and Gwendolyn knew immediately she’d already been chastised, “She says we’re all to go straight to our rooms after supper.”_

_The girls giggled and whispered amongst themselves. Gwendolyn finished her broth, set off in the corner away from them all, and then placed the bowl in a tub with the rest of the dishes. The other girls barely glanced at her as she left, walking the long path to her bedroom. She’d made few friends since arriving a few months ago, hoping for equal parts sanctuary and continued learning._

_The wind picked up slightly around her, wafting in the smell of lavender and days old smoke. Although she was technically an apprentice here, she refused to wear the robes and stuck with her native clothing: layered skirts, tops that allowed free movement, sometimes a shawl with a draping hood._

_Tonight she wore a simple, layered black skirt and a red top that tied at her arms and left her collarbones and shoulders bare. Her plain black boots were unassuming but she hid a dagger in her left, no matter what. She never wanted to be unprepared again._

_She passed the doorway to her bedroom easily, without a backwards glance, and then continued on the path towards the greenhouse. Her heart was surprisingly calm despite what she’d decided to do. She ran a hand through her hair, snagging on her few scattered braids, each wrapped at the end with a fraying cloth or else adorned with a small metal piece._

_She tugged the necklace out from her blouse, holding it tight in her fist before continuing into the darkness. The first healing hut housed two soldiers; they’d been found in the woods nearby, chewed on by wild dogs. Mother Nenneke had brewed some sort of sleeping potion for them and they slept soundly now despite their injuries._

_The next hut was empty, though smoke still trailed from a small fire in the fireplace at the back wall. Gwendolyn paused, rolling her fingers in the wind, and the embers burned redder, the smoke curling in unnatural patterns as she passed._

_Finally, the last hut, where she imagined the witcher would be. She paused, listening hard for any sounds within. Mother Nenneke wasn’t there, she was certain, but otherwise the hut was silent and she remained unsure._

_Finally, she peeked around the edge, trying to see through the thick darkness. It was impossible, even with the tiny fire burning in the back. She stayed there a moment, her eyes darting to try to see movement, until she landed on two golden eyes, staring straight at her._

_She almost took a step back but remained otherwise frozen as the creature lying on the cot watcher her curiously. So, not a dead witcher after all. She wasn’t sure what to say now that she was caught red handed. She had hoped he’d be asleep._

_“Just gonna stare or are you coming inside?” The voice was deeper than she imagined but it got her feet moving all the same_

_A flash of heat, she felt it against her face as the fire leapt. In that moment, she could see the caravans burning, smell the blood, the flesh, could see the glinting, cat eyes in the woods, watching it happen. Doing nothing. Letting her people die._

_The dagger was out of her boot and in her hand before she could stop, her feet moving. In the next moment she was above him, pressing the blade to his neck tightly enough to draw a think trickle of blood. The witcher didn’t flinch, just eyed her carefully._

_“Ever kill before?” He mumbled, unimpressed_

_“Your kind is the reason my family is dead.” She hissed_

_“That so?”_

_He turned her over despite whatever injuries he was nursing and pressed her back against the floor, using his body weight to pin her. She struggled for only a moment and then stayed perfectly still as he raised his head to look at her._

_“Not sure what you’re going on about, but I only kill monsters.”_

_He paused long enough to finally meet her gaze in the light of the fire. She watched his eyebrows furrow as he raced over her glowing eyes and the telltale tattoo branded just beneath her left eye._

_“Ah.” He mumbled, “Fuck.”_

_She reached up, the fire ringing around her hand and wrist, and then punched him hard enough to get him off her. She twisted on the ground, grabbing the dagger and resuming her spot above him, her legs on either side of his hips, and the dagger held high above her head._

_She could finally avenge her family. She was so close. She felt like crying, screaming, punching someone. But not much like killing. Not like this. He wasn’t the one, he’d never even seen her people. She squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered, her shoulders sinking as the dagger clattered to the ground beside his head._

_“Who are you?” She whispered, her eyes finally open as he stared up from below her_

_“Geralt of Rivia.” He replied simply, raising an eyebrow_

_She noticed how young he was in that moment, staring up at her with golden eyes. He had a scar through one eye, all the way down his cheek, and another across his forehead. His long white hair was in disarray and the wolf medallion resting against his chest was trembling, being so near to her. Bandages were wrapped tightly around his chest and then on down his right leg._

_“Your people.” He muttered, “Part of the Romani tribe? The one butchered to the north?”_

_“Yes.”_

_He looked like he was going to say something more but then his eyes darted to a spot behind her, through the door. He shoved her off, grabbing the dagger and rolling back over to the cot._

_“Gwendolyn!”_

_Mother Nenneke was in the hut in the next moment, shattering the quiet as Gwedolyn pulled herself to her feet. Geralt opened his eyes lazily, as thought he’d been resting, and then closed them again._

_“Were you in some way instructed to come here without my knowledge?” She turned to Gwendolyn with an icy glare_

_“No…I…” She hung her head in return_

_“You girls are all the same.” Mother Nenneke was fully in the room now, “It’s as if you’d never seen a man before.”_

_Gwendolyn’s face burned and out of the corner of her eye she could see Geralt smirk from his cot. She continued to stare down at the ground, having nothing to say in response. There was a rustling on the cot but she stayed firmly in her spot, staring intently at her shoes as Mother Nenneke put her hands on her hips and sighed. Would she let Gwendolyn stay? Would this finally be the straw that broke the camels back?_

_“I asked her to come in.” Geralt stated, breaking the silence_

_Her head moved on its own accord, whipping around to look at him. Mother Nenneke glanced over at him as well, giving him a less than impressed expression._

_“I saw her walking and asked for her to keep me company.” Geralt managed a half shrug_

_“Is that so?” Mother Nenneke asked disbelievingly before turning to Gwendolyn again_

_She managed to tear her eyes away from Geralt and stare back at Mother Nenneke. She was eyeing the two of them with a curious expression she couldn’t quite place and then she shook her head and rolled her eyes._

_“Fine.” She muttered, “You’ll be in charge of him until he leaves.”_

_“I…but…” Gwendolyn tried to force the words out of her mouth but nothing would come out and Mother Nenneke left without another word_

_For a full moment she stared after her, her mouth open, and then she turned to face Geralt with a frown. He seemed thoroughly pleased with himself but gave her an innocent smile, lifting his eyebrows slightly._

_“So…you’ll be taking care of me then?” He mumbled_

_She wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t a doubt in her abilities that kept her in place, she’d been caring for the sick with her grandmother since she was a child. But still, she felt a rush of heat in her chest and her fists balled slightly._

_“I…yes.” She managed, “I’m to take care of you.”_

_“Wouldn’t mind a bath.” He teased_

_She rolled her eyes, poking at the fire once more to keep it going. He laughed at her expression, settling with a smirk and closing his eyes. He held the dagger out and she snatched it back, putting it into her boot._

_“Until tomorrow then.” He muttered and she took her cue to leave_

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

She sat up in bed, her mind still spinning. What a strange dream to have, out of the blue. She hadn’t thought about that day since…well, it had been ages. The first time she’d met him…it had been well over 15 years now.

The light from the rising sun was just barely over the horizon and most of the room was caked in darkness. She slipped from the comfort of her bed, sliding on a robe and taking careful steps to the room next door. 

There, her experiments and notes and trinkets were splayed out entirely at random. Organization had never been her strong suite, but she pretty much knew where everything was when she inevitably went looking for it. 

She went to the table by the farthest window and lit a candle, the only light in the room save for the slowly rising sun trickling in. Next to it was a black, velvet bag which contained an odd collection of animal bones, shells, braided horse hair and crystals. She placed them in her hand and then closed her eyes, moving them around in her palm and energizing the pieces. 

Finally, she tossed them, letting them land on the carved, wooden table. They danced across the top, falling one by one, until only a tiny bird skull turned like a top in the middle. Gwendolyn watched it twist, her eyes glazing. 

The room grew dark and blurry as the magic took hold of her, emptying her mind of dreams and thoughts and emotions. In the space between her eyes and the bird skull, the world blurred and then, with a pop, it exploded with a picture burned into her mind.

“Liam.” She breathed and then the spell was over, and she gasped in a breath, leaning heavy on the table as she landed on it 

She stayed there a moment, holding herself up against the table. She’d seen…something. A flash of green hair, which she assumed to be Liam, a fire. Something was chasing him, or he was chasing something. It was hard to tell with these scattered, broken fragments of magic. Still, one thing was certain. 

Something wasn’t right. 

She went downstairs to make a cup of tea and paced by the window as it brewed. Outside, animals scurried past, unaware of her presence or of the house at all, shrouded in a complicated spell that had taken nearly two days to finish.

The meadow outside was pristine though and she doubted herself momentarily. Perhaps she was still rattled from having to deal with a couple of witch hunters in the marketplace a few days ago. They hadn’t said a word to get, didn’t even glance in her direction, but it felt like bile rose in her throat at the sight of them. They were interrogating a young man at a market stall, asking where he purchased some of his wares. She had to restrain herself from interfering, from ruining years of hiding. 

“Where are you, Liam?” She whispered the words out loud, sinking down into a chair at the table, her thoughts elsewhere

Her eyes fell to the basket above the nest this time, filled with fruits, a doll, a few letters addressed to Ixuna, the local goddess. The villagers nearby had created the persona after she’d anonymously helped them in little ways: healing their animals, encouraging their crops to grow.

They clung to the idea that someone was looking out for them. And, for all intents and purposes, she supposed she was. Every once and a while she would venture to the shrines they created for her, in the dead of night, picking through the offerings and letters, listening for the imprints of their prayers. Sometimes, in his own way, Liam would help as well. Lately, she’d discouraged it. It was too dangerous to be different and he wasn’t nearly careful enough. 

She swirled the spoon in her mug of tea, staring down at the water as it spun. Strange to have a dream about Geralt. Especially before a warning from the bones. Still, she did miss him in her own way and she thought about him frequently. Mother Nenneke had gone out of her way to keep her safe and so she did pretty much whatever she was asked, including taking care of the young witcher and then, later, leaving. 

_She hated him at first. Blatantly. Without reason. When she saw his face, she saw the witchers who had waited on the outskirts, who had let her people die when the Eternal Fire attacked. It wasn’t fair, obviously, as he hadn’t been there in the first place, but it was a guttural thing and she couldn’t help herself. Still, she respected Mother Nenneke and owed her a great deal and so every morning she trudged past the initiates and their whispering words to his healing hut. He waited there for her every day and never said a cruel word, despite her attitude._

_She realized how hurt he was the first time she changed his bandages. She sat him up, carefully unwinding the dirty bandages and then paused, accessing the damage. There were gaping wounds, all along his back, and a huge gash in the middle of his chest. She imagined he’d been impaled with something but couldn’t imagine what, even with her years of training with her grandmother._

_Seeing him like that, broken and weak, slowly broke down her walls of anger. Although he was far from helpless, he needed her help almost constantly in the beginning and he was clearly in a lot of pain. She’d spent her entire childhood following her grandmother around, healing and protecting people, and she had a soft spot for any person or creature in need._

_And that’s how it all started._

_One night, without realizing it, she found herself in the greenhouse picking herbs she’d used with her grandmother. She brewed her own remedy, a poultice to put beneath bandages, and then brought it to Geralt in the dead of night._

_“I’d like to try something.” She mumbled as he roused himself awake, yawning, “It’s a remedy from my people.”_

_He nodded, still half asleep, and let her pull him up to sit. She stripped the bandages off and then applied the poultice in a thick layer, squishing it beneath a layer of new bandages. She wasn’t sure what Mother Nenneke would say if she found out, so she never told her. She laid him back against the bed, pulling blankets up around him, before turning to leave._

_“Hmm stay a while.” His voice was thick with sleep and the vapors from the poultice only increased his relaxation_

_She sank down beside the bed anyway, resting casually on one arm to wait for him to fall back asleep. He had his hand resting on top of her arm, his fingertips twitching very lightly against her skin. He sighed, shaking his head to try to fight through the fog and she found herself smiling. It quickly turned into a frown though, noting the small cut on his neck._

_“I’m sorry, by the way.” The words were hard to say, “For trying to hurt you.”_

_“Witchers killed your people?” He asked_

_“No…the Eternal Fire killed my people.” She replied, “Witchers stood by and watched it happen.”_

_“How did you escape?”_

_She turned from him, staring at the small fire in the back of the room. Remembering that night, remembering all that happened, it was difficult. More than difficult. The fire crackled and popped and she closed her eyes, trying to focus on a point far beyond the horizon in her mind, trying to calm down._

_“My grandmother hid me.” She whispered, “She knew they were coming, the signs were all there. She thought we could repel the attack, but she wanted a backup plan just in case. She hid me in the forest, in the deepest part that only we knew, and then put a sleeping spell on me.”_

_“Why were you so far north?” He asked the obvious question and she sighed_

_“Because that’s where the work was.” She paused, “How much do you know about my people?”_

_“Embarrassingly little.” He admitted, opening his eyes_

_“Hah!” She expected as much, “Then I’ll let you in on a secret, witcher. Before you, it was us who protected these lands. We killed monsters, the same as you. Once witchers started taking over contracts, we helped by healing. The war leaves many injured. So what’s where we went.”_

_“Just so happens that’s where the Eternal Fire seems to go too.” He mumbled, closing his eyes again_

_“Yes.” She sighed, “When I awoke, I was alone, disoriented. I managed to make my way back to the caravans but…it was a massacre. Everyone dead, burning. The caravans were ashes, broken skeletons with wheels. They’d even slaughtered the horses and the animals.”_

_She stopped there, unable to go further. The truth was, she’d waded through the dead. She’d found her grandmother, one of the few who wasn’t burned beyond recognition. She’d knelt beside her, willing every bit of magic left inside her to go to her, to bring her back. She would have paid any cost. But nothing happened. There was nothing she could do._

_That’s when she saw the witchers. They were kneeling just outside the perimeters of the carnage, watching carefully. They’d been there a while, their fire mere ashes now, and in her rage she screamed at them. She cursed them, lit the trees around them on fire. She could barely remember those moments now, so taken up by rage, but the witchers escaped into the woods and were never seen again._

_She took her grandmothers necklace, she remembered that, and then wandered into the wilderness for days in shock, in rage, in tears. She thought to go after the Eternal Fire and all those who had hurt her, but she’d wandered too far in the wrong direction to catch up._

_“Mother Nenneke and her apprentices found me after that, half dead, half in shock. They took me in, nursed me back to health, and then let me stay. She said she’d had dealings with my people before, had always found them honest, and she knew I was a skilled healer by looking at me so I could stay. Work.” She finished the tale and Geralt didn’t pry_

_That night, waiting for him to sleep, she herself fell asleep in the hut, leaning against the wall. In those days she had nightmares every time she closed her eyes and this time was no different. She woke to a blanket of coolness cascading from her forehead down, blinking slowly. His hand still shimmered, a witchers spell to try to calm her mind._

_“You were having a nightmare.” He explained from beside her, his hand still outstretched towards her face_

_“Your magic doesn’t work on me.” She muttered, “But thanks for trying.”_

_He frowned at that, watching her curiously as the magic dispelled from his hand and he finally set it down. She rubbed her temples for a moment, trying to forget the nightmare._

_“Your people…there are stories about them.” He began carefully_

_She raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. Geralt was serious though and he turned to face her slightly, grimacing as he scraped against his bandages._

_“Are the stories true?”_

_“You’ll have to be more specific.” She shrugged_

_“You have ancient magic, elemental magic.” He replied, “Are you a mage?”_

_“That’s privileged information, witcher.” She replied, though her tone was less harsh and she smiled_

_He grinned at that and her face softened all the more. Finally, he shrugged, done fighting the potions that were making him sleepy, and turned over on his back._

_“Guess I’ll just have to get to know you then.”_

A bang on the door jolted her from her thoughts, her knees slamming into the table in surprise. She couldn’t even be sure that was what she heard; perhaps instead a bird had unknowingly flown into the door, it had happened once before.

But the banging continued and she realized there was someone there, someone who had seen through her magic. A sliver of ice was growing in her spine as she stood, unsure what to expect, even more unsure what to do.

Her hand touched the knob, a momentary pause, and then she yanked the door open, staring stupidly at the man in front of her. Their eyes met for a moment, his bright and golden and hers, barely glowing green.

“Geralt?”

Her disbelief was shattered a moment later as Geralt turned, a small creature clinging to his back. She recognized the wild, green hair and dark, unnatural skin immediately. 

“Liam!” 

The godling made a motion like he heard her but didn’t move much, his eyes closed. Gwendolyn stepped aside so that the witcher could make his way into the room, closing the door behind them and locking it. He gently dropped the godling into his small nest in the corner. 

“Got jumped by a couple of them soldiers with the pointy hats.” Liam cradled himself and rocked, “They was after me head!” 

She immediately went to the pantry, grabbing various bottles and jars and returning to a bowl at the table. She mixed viciously, pouring in ingredients by sight rather than spending the time to measure them out to perfection. There wasn’t time. 

“They poked me with a mean metal stick.” Liam whimpered, lifting his shirt to show the wound, “And then Geralt of Rivia showed up and saved me.” 

The witcher stayed kneeling by the godlings side, watching him carefully. Gwendolyn poured in a bottle of something thick and black, muttering a spell under her breath and then transferring what turned into a thick, green sludge into a mug. 

“Drink this.” She was by his side again in an instant

“Looks like veggies.” Liam complained, turning up his nose 

“We don’t have time to argue, they’ve hit you with a poisoned spear.” She pressed lightly against the wound on his side, covered only by the rags he wore as clothes and it pulsed hot under her fingertips

“Please Liam.” She tried again, brushing her hand against his burning forehead, “For me.” 

The godling fixed his enormous green eyes on her and sighed, taking the mug and holding his nose to drink the concoction in one go. He grimaced, making a terrible face, and then handed her the mug back. 

“Tastes like veggies too.” He whined 

It took only moments for the sludge to take effect. His eyes drooped dramatically, and then finally closed as he curled up tighter on his nest, sighing. She dropped the mug into a basin to clean later as the witcher stood with her. 

“What happened?” She turned on him, her voice more venomous than she intended 

He didn’t seem to mind, merely gazed at her intently for a moment and then leaned back against the wall beside Liam, casually crossing his arms over his chest. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his face blank, but her mind was moving a thousand miles a minute. 

“They caught him playing with a group of school children at the fork in the road. Ran the kids off and circled him.” Geralt explained quietly

“That’s only a mile away, he should have…”

“He was afraid to bring them here.” Geralt interrupted, “Afraid they’d find you.” 

She pressed her forehead to the wall, a lump rising in her throat. Liam had always been abundantly kind, if not impish and wild. She often forgot he was a godling, sometimes lapsing into the disbelief he was her own little brother. 

“You saved him?” She asked, finally pulling herself away from the wall

“He didn’t do anything wrong.” Geralt conceded 

She took a moment, now that things were calm, to glance over the stranger, for that’s what he was now. It had been, what? 5 years since she’d last seen him? He looked almost exactly the same. 

“You’ve grown up a great deal, Gwen.” 

And that was all it took. Her stomach tightened at the memories, so long ago. She faced him fully, tracing over the familiar planes of his face, his hair, the white stubble on his cheeks. 

“It’s been a long time, Geralt.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and his expression softened slightly 

She took a step forward, gently wrapping her arms around his neck. He held her there a moment and she allowed herself a blink of inexcusable relief to wash over her, for the tightness in her shoulder blades to dissipate, before she pulled away. 

“You’re hurt.” Her eyes traveled down to a small hole in his jacket, stained with blood 

“It’s nothing.” He began but she waved him off, forcing him into a chair at the table

“Old habits die hard.” She joked

She unbuttoned the top few buttons of his collar and pulled it away far enough to see the wound herself. He was right, it was merely a scratch, but she pressed her palm against it nonetheless, healing it away with magic. He glanced up, looking like he was going to say something, his lips turning ever so slightly to smirk at her from below. 

“What’s a witcher doing this far out in the middle of nowhere?” She broke the tension, glancing away

“Could ask you the same thing.” He mumbled, “Got a contract.” 

“From the village?”

“No…they seem to think they’re taken care of.” His eyes glinted mischievously, “They say they owe it all to the goddess, Ixuna.” 

She rolled her eyes, withdrawing her hand from his shoulder too sharply, and then going to clean the mug and bowl she’d used earlier for Liam. 

“Your response tells me I’m right.” He teased, “You’re Ixuna.” 

“It’s merely a folk story.” She shrugged in return 

“You seem real enough.” He replied, “She fixes their crops, protects their animals, heals their children through dreams…”

“I _know_ the stories.” 

“But they’ve never seen you?” He asked, “I’ve seen the shrines, the statues don’t nearly do you justice.” 

“Safer that way.” She blushed at the compliment but managed to roll her eyes again all the same, “It’s not safe to be different, not anymore. You saw that today.” 

And it was true. The world was a different place, what with the Eternal Fire waving their flames about at anyone who so much as brewed a sleeping potion let alone actual magical folk. She heard horror stories from some of the major cities that kept her firmly planted in solitude, out in the middle of nowhere. 

Her gaze landed on Liam’s sleeping form, curled up tightly. She grabbed a small shawl from the back of one of the chairs and wrapped it gently around him, tucking in the edges to keep out the cold. 

“What’s the story with you two?” Geralt buttoned his shirt back and leaned back more comfortably in the chair now that the attention was back on her completely

“It’s a long story…” She glanced at Liam one last time and then back to Geralt

But his curious expression didn’t waver so she sighed, grabbing a bottle of wine from the top shelf of the pantry and sliding it onto the table with a pair of glasses. He accepted a glass when she poured a heavy tip into it, sipping it noiselessly as he watched her from just above the brim. His gaze made her uncomfortable in some ways, made her feel like she was being unraveled by something she couldn’t quite see or touch. 

“Liam found me, actually.” She took a gulp of wine, letting it settle into her belly before continuing, “I’d been running, I don’t know how long. Soldiers of the Eternal Fire were after me, everything was in disarray. I’d been wounded, beaten down, I had nowhere to go.” 

At this, the witcher frowned. Much had happened since she’d last seen him, some things she wasn’t certain she wanted to tell him at all. She paused and took another sip but Geralt didn’t move, his bright eyes transfixed on her. Was she merely interesting? Or did he think her prey? Even he didn’t seem to be sure. 

“I stumbled into the forest in the middle of the night, looking for somewhere to hide. I was young, naïve, didn’t even dress the wound on my shoulder. I managed to make it this far, to this clearing, and collapsed. I don’t know how much blood I lost but if it wasn’t for Liam, I’m certain I’d be dead.” She shrugged, “He had a burrow near here, heard my flailing through the branches and came out to investigate. When he found me, he stayed beside me all night to protect me. In the morning, he brought me water and a clump of wildflowers he’d picked.”

She smiled very lightly at the memory, at the sweet boy who was in all likelihood a hundred years her elder. Geralt’s expression changed very slightly, momentarily, before becoming stoic again. 

“When no one followed, I decided to stay. Liam helped me build this home and I concealed it with magic. Worked exceptionally well until you came along.” She raised an eyebrow, finishing off her glass 

“Would’ve worked well on anyone.” Geralt shrugged, “Technically, I cheated.” 

He brought the Eye of Nehaleni out of his pocket and laid it on the table. She traced over the tiny features, a maze within a maze, and felt the power stir inside it. Pushing it back across the table to him, she crossed her arms and leaned back. 

That’s when she noticed the bracelet, just barely hidden beneath part of his sleeve. She reached across the table and grabbed his wrist, pulling his arm across so she could inspect the glowing, barely shaped metal. One of her very first projects. 

“You kept this?” She nearly laughed, turning it over on his wrist 

“Of course.” 

He didn’t expand, just glanced up at her curious expression and kept his wrist in her fingers grasp. She could feel his pulse, slow, steady, as it had always been. Finally, he sighed, looking down at the dimly glowing bracelet. 

“It’s supposed to glow when there’s magic around.” He cocked his head to the side 

“Doesn’t work?” She raised an eyebrow

“Only works when I’m near you.” 

He gave her half a smirk and it made her blush, though she didn’t know why. It felt strange to have him here. Admittedly, she’d only seen and talked to him a handful of times and yet he had a strange way of making every conversation seem important. Perhaps because he’d ignored to many others around her, had singled her out. Even at Aretuza, when help was plentiful and more talented students were around, he always chose her. 

Or maybe because when he talked to her, much like he did tonight, he seemed to focus so intently and completely on her. 

“You must be tired.” She noted the sun had already risen high in the sky by now but there was no telling the last time he’d slept, “I have an extra room you’re welcome to.” 

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…” He began but she brushed the thought away with a wave of her hand, standing and brushing that same hand against Liam’s cooling forehead

“It’s not an intrusion at all. Besides, it’s been a long time. I want to hear the many adventures you’ve had.” She stated, “Follow me.” 

She led the way up a winding set of stairs to the second floor, a few rooms set apart. The first, her laboratory with her trinkets and books. The second, across the hall, her own room. And then finally, at the end, a single door that led to the guest room she’d never had to use before. 

She’d imagined it as a room for Liam but he staunchly refused to sleep in a bed (or a bedroom for that matter). She’d barely gotten him to agree to sleep indoors. Still, she kept the room neat and tidy all the same with the naïve belief he might come around to the idea one day. 

“If there’s anything you need…” She began as Geralt stepped through the doorway and surveyed the room 

“I won’t bother you further, thank you.” 

She nodded and stepped back through the doorway. She made her way back downstairs, clearing off the table and organizing a few herbs to keep her hands busy. A nervousness seemed to permeate the home now that a stranger resided in it. She felt the need to stay busy, to keep moving, though her motions soon became repetitive and dumb and she gave up. 

At lunch, she forced herself to eat, and then made a poultice to put against Liam’s wounds. He barely stirred, though he seemed to curl up farther into himself when she was done. She kept busy by cleaning, though there was little to do, and by collecting some herbs in the garden to dry out in the window. 

At dinner, she skipped food, drank a glass of wine, and then peeked her head into Geralt’s room. He was sleeping soundly, resting on top of the blankets with his eyes closed. She stepped into the room, peering down at him as he slept. It was so much like the times at Mother Nenneke’s sanctuary, taking care of him and then waiting beside him while he slept. 

But there was little to do to take care of him and he was sleeping soundly so she left. She went to her own room, sitting on the edge of the bed. The sun was sinking lower and lower, finally dipping below the horizon and shrouding the house in darkness. She slipped under the mountain of blankets, staring up at the ceiling. 

Was the witcher a good omen or a bad one? And what did his arrival mean for her? She wrestled with these thoughts, thinking of the last time she’d seen him at the sanctuary, before she was shipped off to the academy. 

_A familiar set of hands closed gently over her eyes, blinding her. She grabbed his wrists out of habit and then the back of her head collided with his belly. She could feel the familiar metal band she’d created for him days ago, meant to glow when magic was near. She managed to peel his hands away from her face, lifting her head to look straight up at him._

_“Miss me?” He teased, sitting down beside her_

_“You’re still here?” She teased back, “Don’t say you’re staying just on account of little old me.”_

_He laughed but neither confirmed nor denied her. And she had missed him, despite how little time she’d spent with him. It was a long few days with him away from the sanctuary, meeting up to finish some business that had landed him there in the first place._

_She trailed her fingers along the water, watching it boil at the very tips. Almost as quickly, she removed her hand and closed her fingers into a tight fist._

_“What did Mother Nenneke say?” He asked, frowning_

_“What’re you still doing here?” She diverted the question, turning to face him_

_“Got business around here. Mother Nenneke is letting me stay until it’s over.” He replied_

_“Ah.”_

_“Ah? Thought you’d be happier.” He frowned_

_“I wish I could keep you company.”_

_“You can’t?”_

_“Mother Nenneke has decided I would be better suited for Aretuza.” She replied, “They’ll teach me to control…this.”_

_She flourished a hand in the air and then sank into herself. Geralt was frowning as well but didn’t say anything for a long while. It was strange, to feel so close to a witcher._

_“Perhaps my travels will take me there.” He offered, offering her his hand and pulling her to her feet_

_“You think so?” She glanced over as they walked towards the healing huts_

_“If you’ll have me.” He grinned_

_She managed a grin of her own and nudged him slightly, though she doubted he would make it. It was a long journey, out of the way. Still, that he offered at all made her happy._

_“Have you heard any news?” Geralt nodded to her necklace, intricate silver metalwork wrapped around a bright, white stone_

_“There…no. Nothing.” She replied, “I’m the only survivor.”_

_They paused out the healing hut he’d stayed at for weeks and she stared down at the ground. All her life she’d been surrounded by people who loved and cared for her. Good, kind, generous people who were trying to make the world a better place. And now she was alone._

_“Gwen?” He brought her attention back to him, gently lifting her chin with his fingertips. For a moment they stayed there, just staring at each other, before he finally sighed._

_“It will get better.” He offered and she nodded numbly_

_Already a wagon was being packed with her few belongings. She eyed it wearily and he followed her gaze with a frown. She sighed, brushing her hands through her hair and glancing at him once last time._

_“Try not to forget about me.” She whispered and wrapped him in a tight, quick hug before he could protest_

_“I’ll be seeing you.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's too long but I don't want to break it up so. Oh well.

_  
Escaping from the academy proved more and more difficult as the mentors cracked down on their charges. Of course, not necessarily just for their safety so much as for their work. Why leave the labs, where you could be productive and work on something important, just to go traipsing about the town below?_

_The war, however, hadn’t interested Gwendolyn, at least not the waging of it. And politics made her ears bleed. It was the aftermath of all these things, those effected, that consumed her studies. She was allowed a small space in the back of a lab, a table with not much else, to run her studies._

_But her materials kept being “misplaced” and the other students caused such a racket that she decided she needed a new space. A secret space._

_The problem with that was, as in all things, money. And the fact that she had very little of it. She was essentially at the academy on scholarship, a deal worked out with Mother Nenneke, but otherwise she was on her own. She tried brewing and selling healing potions for a while but there was little need in a place so removed and safe._

_Which is when she started sneaking off in the middle of the night to the small town below. The streets crisscrossed at odd angles and most of the shops were closed except for the market day on Sunday, but there were also some buildings that were utterly unclaimed. Fixing one into her lab became her biggest project of her third summer at the academy. But to do that, she needed money to buy supplies._

_That was when she stumbled upon the arena._

_It was in the basement of the local tavern, which had seemed to her a sleepy little place at first glance. She meandered down to the basement one evening looking for random supplies she might be able to steal when she noticed the light on in the room next door._

_That led to a set of winding stairs which went deep underground. She followed them, forever curious, and then landed in the middle of a large arena. In the middle, people faced off, sometimes fighting barehanded and sometimes fighting with swords. She made her way to the edge of the ring, watching two men pummel each other._

_And then, when one of them was lying flat on the ground and giving in, the crowd erupted and change purses were exchanged. The winner’s hand was raised in the area and then a sack of coin was placed into it._

_She marched up to the betting boxes a moment later and tried to sign up for a fight._

_“Don’t have any women fighters.”_

_“I’ll fight a man then.”_

_“First fight is 5 crowns.”_

_“Fine.”_

_The bookie looked unimpressed and honestly a little annoyed, but he wrote her name down anyway. She was pummeled the first time, and the second time come to think of it. But by the third she’d worked out how things were played, and she got a little gold even when she lost. She switched from hand to hand combat and went instead for swordplay, something she’d already had a background in._

_The fights were more dangerous, but she started winning. As her wealth increased, she poured it into a secret lab in town. She masked the outside of the building with a spell to keep it looking dilapidated but inside everything was shiny and new._

_She had tools on one wall, a giant dissection table in the middle, and another wall held various potions and ingredients, empty vials and herbs. It was perfect, although utterly not allowed, and so she continued to hide her movements to and from the academy._

_Which is what she was doing that night, five years ago. She finally was making a breakthrough on a new healing method she’d perfected from her grandmother but needed more supplies to practice with. And that meant a trip to the tavern._

_She stepped through the door, nodding at the bookie to write her name in. She recognized some of the students, others who had come down to escape the academy, and so she started wearing a mask whenever she fought. It only covered her mouth and nose, a hood over the rest of her, but it was enough that the casual observer wouldn’t notice._

_She wasn’t sure who she was fighting against, it didn’t really matter to her. She slid the mask over her mouth and then grabbed a sword from the rack, kicking herself over the small barrier and into the actual arena itself._

_“We’ve got a special fight tonight!” The bookie was announcing from the booth, “Our hometown lady and a mutant monster.”_

_She turned in time to see someone else drop in the arena, someone with white hair, but they were already swinging towards her and she ducked, somersaulting out of the way. She swung back, their swords colliding harshly before he managed to push her back against the wall. She kicked him in the stomach and then spun and kicked him in the jaw, sending him staggering._

_He managed to slice through her arm, a flesh wound, and she pierced into his shoulder. He grunted in return, headbutting her to get her away._

_Gwendolyn staggered for a moment, her mask falling as blood trickled down her forehead to her jaw. She readied herself, half blinded, and swung her sword over her head. His clashed with hers and they stayed there a moment, face to face._

_“Gwen?”_

_His voice sent a shock through her and she paused, their swords still interlocked. And then in a moment of heated panic she brought hers down, kicking him squarely in the chest and sending him flying back against the ground. He tapped the ground to give in and they both slipped over the side of the barrier._

_“Can you believe it?” The bookie was going wild, “Our hometown lady beat a witcher!”_

_She collected her bag of gold, pulling her hood closer, and then walked out of the arena. He was following, she could feel it, but it wasn’t safe to talk with so many eyes on her. They walked down an empty road and then turned into an alley before she stopped in the relative dark to finally turn and face him again._

_“Are you all right?” He was talking first, moving closer_

_“Fine.” She held him back, “I’m fine.”_

_Her eyebrows furrowed as they stayed standing there together in the dark. Three years…that’s how long it had been since she’d seen him last. He seemed to be thinking the same thing because he slowed, watching her carefully. They stayed in awkward silence for a moment and then she noticed he was bleeding through his shirt._

_“C’mon.”_

_She walked the rest of the alley and then turned at the very end, opening the latch on her inconspicuous lab. She lit candles as she walked, raising her hand to light them magically, and then motioned for him to sit in a chair. She brushed the blood away from her own face, using a damp towel to wash it off, before healing the mark on her own arm away and then turned back to him._

_“Let me see your shoulder.”_

_He shifted, pulling the loose white shirt over to the side so she could see the puncture mark better. It wasn’t especially deep and with his witcher abilities she was sure he’d be healed in no time. She didn’t mind helping him along though, perhaps for old times sake._

_“Where’d you learn to fight?” He asked, gritting his teeth as she poured alcohol over the wound to cleanse it_

_“I’m Romani.” She replied simply, not elaborating in the slightest_

_“They have a fencing team?” He teased and she rolled her eyes, beginning to magically stitch up the wound_

_“Well, we couldn’t very well fight monsters with our bare hands.” She replied_

_They lapsed back into silence and she finished up on his arm, rubbing her thumb across the new skin. It was a simple wound, nothing like what she was working on in her spare time._

_“What’re you doing here?” She managed, wiping her bloody hands on a towel_

_“Looking for help with a contract, actually.” He admitted, “Interested?”_

_“I’m not allowed to leave the academy…uh, except to visit this town and help with the merchants.” She quickly covered her lie despite his disbelieving expression_

_“Uh huh.” He smirked, “Wouldn’t need you to leave. Just need information.”_

_At this, she cocked her head. She was hardly the strongest student at the academy and even with her Romani background, she wasn’t naïve enough to think she was particularly special. There were students who would have killed for an opportunity to work with a witcher. On top of that, there were mages who taught at the academy whose wealth of knowledge far outreached them all. He had only to ask one of them._

_“You must be doing something you’re not supposed to.” She inquired, raising an eyebrow_

_“Then I guess we have something in common.”_

_The smirk that accompanied his statement convinced her. It was Geralt, after all, not some stranger who’d burst in demanding answers. Even if he had been gone for three years, she figured she could spare a little time for him._

_And she’d missed him. As much as that hurt to say._

_They walked back into the streets and she pulled up her hood, covering most of her face. Geralt stayed beside her, explaining the contract. A spriggan, recently gone mad and attacking several villages along a stretch of forest._

_“Perhaps they’re mistreating the forest.” She offered with a shrug, “Maybe they should have to leave.”_

_“Contract’s a contract.”_

_“The world’s not so black and white, witcher.” She muttered_

_He flinched slightly at that, calling him witcher instead of his name. It was what she’d done when they first met, when they didn’t know each other. They paused in the street, facing each other again._

_“I leave in two nights to find it.” He explained, ignoring her comment, “I’m low on supplies and none of the merchants here have what I need…at least, not officially.”_

_“You realize this isn’t my specialty anymore, right?” She asked slowly_

_“Yes.”_

_“And yet you’re still asking me for help? Instead of asking a more qualified student? Or hell, one of the real mages at the academy?”_

_“I know you, that means a great deal. And I need someone discrete.” He replied, “And…I happen to know where you come from. Makes your particular brand of magic different from the rest.”_

_She froze. Since leaving Mother Nenneke’s she hadn’t breathed a word of her past. It was dangerous for herself, naturally, but more dangerous for any brethren that might have survived the slaughter. She hadn’t heard a word, but she still hoped, secretly, that a few got away. Even if they didn’t, there were the ice and earth clans to look out for. Geralt seemed to be reading her expression because he grabbed her hand and forced her to look at him._

_“I won’t betray your trust, Gwen.”_

_“I know.”_

_And she did know. For having been around each other for an intense but short time, she felt as though she knew several things about him. One thing she knew was he was entirely too reckless for his own good. And another was that she could trust him._

_“I have an idea.” She pulled her hood closer and slipped her hand from his, walking down the road again_

_“Looks empty.” Geralt commented as they paused in front of a building at the end of the street_

_Gwendolyn rolled her eyes and knocked twice, waiting for a small slit to appear halfway up the door._

_“Gwen?”_

_“Martin.”_

_“Haven’t seen you in a while.” The door opened and a young dwarf with blonde hair waddled out_

_“Been busy. Any stock in yet?” She asked_

_“I’ve got a few things might peak your interest.” He eyed Geralt, “Who’s your friend?”_

_“No one.” She replied, walking into the shop_

_The dwarf allowed the witcher to follow, though he grumbled all the same, and held tightly onto his dagger in his belt. Geralt seemed completely unperturbed, apparently used to such a welcome._

_Inside the shop was a hoarder’s paradise of unlabeled bottles, overturned boxes, skulls of various creatures she couldn’t name, and strange contraptions fished out of the dump from the academy, still glowing. She walked to the back wall, skimming over some of the ingredients._

_“I need…this.” She grabbed a large bottle of some kind of black liquid, “And…this.”_

_The next was a jar of metallic powder. She put them both into a cloth bag and then turned towards the dwarf with a raised eyebrow._

_“That make us even?”_

_“Aye, I can agree to that.” The dwarf nodded_

_“Thanks.” She turned towards the door, “See you later, Martin.”_

_The witcher didn’t say a word but a curious and amused expression crossed his face nonetheless. They both walked side by side back towards her lab and she eyed him suspiciously._

_“Something funny?”_

_“You’re much more demanding than I remember.” He muttered with a grin_

_She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. There were so many things she wanted to ask, so many questions. Three years was a long time, enough time to put the idea of seeing him again far, far from her mind. They stepped back inside her lab and she immediately got to work. He shed his weapons and picked a spot on the table to lean, finally relaxing._

_“Don’t like the academy?” He asked after a moment_

_“Better than the alternative.” She replied, carefully measuring out the black liquid in metal cups_

_“Do they know you come here?” He asked, cocking his head to the side_

_“No.”_

_“You don’t have labs in the college?” He continued to pry_

_“We do.” She shrugged_

_“Then why come here?”_

_“I like to have my own space.” She replied, “The labs are hoarded over by students who make weapons for war or political advancement. That doesn’t interest me.”_

_“Don’t want to be advising a king?” He teased_

_“Hardly.” She started on the powder, “And you? Been busy for three years?”_

_At this he grimaced slightly and looked down at the ground. She tried to focus on the items in front of her and ignore the way her chest tightened but it was hard, and she paused, setting down the materials in front of her._

_“I should have written to you.” He admitted after a moment, frowning_

_She paused and glanced over him. The guilty expression that littered his face surprised her. Witchers weren’t supposed to feel complex emotions like that. The mutations should have taken care of them._

_“What would we have talked about?” She shrugged, pushing the thought away and then moved the metal cups over to another table_

_She ignored the momentary flash of hurt that crossed his face, another emotion he shouldn’t have, and then worked to combine the ingredients into a flask. He slowly walked over, watching her movements. Finally, she whispered an incantation, an ancient spell her grandmother had taught her, before she corked the flask shut._

_“Tar bomb.” She tossed the flask to him, “Pour a little of this, light it on fire with igni, boom.”_

_“Boom?”_

_“It’ll stick and it’ll burn.” She retorted, “I imagine it would be wildly unpleasant for the spriggan…and also for yourself, so maybe be careful where you aim it.”_

_“Interesting.” He peered up at the flask, holding it to the light_

_“Works on ghouls too, if you were wondering.” She gave him a small smile, a peace offering_

_He stowed the flask carefully and she cleared her workstation and put away the extra supplies she had left. It was getting late, later than she planned. She’d have to hurry back before the next shift guards started roaming the halls in the academy._

_“What do I owe you?” Geralt asked as she walked them out the door and then to the edge of the village and over to the sewer that led directly into the academy_

_“Keep my secret.” She retorted with a grin, “And come back to see me.”_

_After that, she spent another week alone. She didn’t really expect him to come back, or she figured maybe in another three years he’d stop by for more help. Then, after a week had passed, a caged bird showed up in her bedroom. It had a broken wing and could barely move so she took it to the village that night._

_In her lab, she cured it of diseases and then fixed the fractured wing using the new magic she’d been testing. It healed with more precision than she thought possible, leaving behind no scar at all._

_“What is it that interests you that you can’t practice at the academy?”_

_His voice made her flinch in surprise, but she didn’t look up from the bird, continuing her spells_

_“Healing, mostly.” She muttered, “My people were renowned healers and I want to keep the tradition alive.”_

_“Need a human volunteer?”_

_She paused, glancing up at his dark shadow in the doorway. She couldn’t see the wounds, not right away, but she could smell the blood, copper, and he was standing awkwardly to diminish the pain. She let the newly healed bird go and cleared off her table with a swipe of her arm._

_“Spriggan?”_

_He grunted an affirmative and then laid down on the table with a grimace. She went to work unbuttoned his shirt and untying his laces until he was down to a simple, white shirt. It was soaked red with blood and his arm was hanging, barely attached, tied with an old bandage he hadn't bothered to change. She washed off what she could and accessed the wound in a panic._

_“We should get you to the academy.” She whispered, wide eyed, “There are better mages…”_

_“Don’t want them.” He grunted, “Want you.”_

_Her breath felt fragile and shaky, but she rolled up her sleeves anyway and placed her hands over the wound. There was no time for potions, no time for poultices. The silver rings, almost translucent at first, began to snake around his arm in wide, lazy loops._

_“Hmm.” He closed his eyes as the rings became more tangible, tightening, “Feels cold.”_

_It was more difficult than the bird; she’d healed so many birds, frogs, rats, dogs. Humans were more complex, so many things could go wrong. She’d healed herself on occasion, self induced injuries in the beginning, just to see if she could, and then after her fights, but the academy was safe and the collage boasted an infirmary for students which made her particular interests obsolete. Her hands trembled slightly._

_“Tell me if this hurts, please.” She whispered, intensifying the rings_

_He didn’t move or flinch or say anything and she continued to work. The smaller cuts on his arm began to sew shut, one by one, leaving behind pink scars that would eventually fade into fresh, clear skin. She probed deeper, to the muscles below, the bones, the tendons. It was working, really working._

_Relief washed over her in waves, and she managed a determined smile, sewing up the last of the cuts on his arm. Finally, she pulled the rings back, larger, and circled his entire body once over._

_He sighed at that, his face relaxing as the rings spun around him slowly, and then they disintegrated in front of her eyes. He blinked slowly, once, twice, like he was waking from some sort of stupor, and then he sat up, testing his arm._

_“Are you ok?” Her voice was more timid than she would have liked_

_“Like new.” He moved his arm out to the side to make his point_

_“I…” And then it hit her like a ton of bricks and a whooshing sound filled her ears_

_“Gwen?”_

_Geralt’s voice seemed far away. Suddenly, all she could see was the floor coming faster and faster. She closed her eyes, braced for impact, but it never came. Instead, she was in Geralt’s arms, her head spinning. He hovered over her for a moment, his face too close, and then pulled her up to sit gingerly in a chair._

_“You all right?” He brushed a stray hair from her face, too gently, as he crouched in front of her, staring into her face above_

_“Yeah.” She waved away his concern with a sigh, “The spell takes a great deal of energy, that’s all.”_

_She rubbed her temples and took a deep breath. Geralt stayed beside her another moment and then retreated to get her a glass of water. Her eyes traced over the new skin of his shoulder when he returned, at the wounds there no longer. He followed her gaze, flexing and pulling his fingers slightly._

_“Thank you.”_

_He pulled his tunic back on all the way, readjusting his bags and swords as he went. Finally, with one more glance, he walked back towards the doorway. She managed to stand and followed after him, eyes tracing over the swords on his back._

_“The bombs worked by the way.” He turned at the door, “I owe you one.”_

_She raised an eyebrow and he smirked, touching his shoulder gingerly._

_“More than one.”_

_“Don’t mention it.” She shrugged, suddenly very tired_

_He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck and then turned to leave. She caught his sleeve like a reflex, an instinct. She wasn’t even entirely sure why, her tongue felt too big in her mouth for words. He paused and turned to face her, meeting her gaze._

_“I…will I see you again?” She asked and he gave her a shy smile_

_“You can count on it.”_

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

She stayed, staring up at the ceiling, for far too many minutes. The sun was rising steadily and downstairs she could hear something like the clatter of plates or mugs. The dream was still fresh in her mind, she could almost smell the blood, but she smiled anyway. They’d been different then. Young, stupid, reckless.

At first, she had worried she’d have to wait another three years to see him again, but he hadn’t lied. Sometimes it would be weeks, sometimes months, but when a contract dragged him close, he always stopped by and she helped as much as she could. 

Until she left, a sudden thing on her part, he was the only constant in her life. 

When the sun was high enough and her room was too bright to feign sleeping, She escaped from the warmth of her bed to the hallway. The guest room door was wide open, the bed made, and the room left exactly as she’d had it before Geralt had come. It was how he’d always been, when he started staying in the village overnight, when she started breaking every rule to see him. 

_“They’ll catch you if you stay here.” He mumbled, eyes already closing_

_She shrugged, though he couldn’t see her, and brought a blanket up to his chest. He’d been up for days, she could tell, and although he had no wounds to speak of this time, she still laid him on the table and did a preliminary check._

_He didn’t fight her, just hummed when the rings encircled his body, lazy, gentle loops that made goosebumps rise on his arms. He wanted to talk to her, stay up, but she dragged him over to a bed in the corner, a new addition, and laid him down._

_“You don’t have to stay.” He sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed, glancing down at him_

_“Want me to leave?” She teased and he opened his eyes to give her a childish frown_

_“Don’t want you in trouble.” He retorted after a moment_

_“I can take care of myself.” She replied, brushing a stray piece of hair out of his face_

_“Mhm.”_

_Already his breathing was slow, steady. She traced a finger down his jaw and then up the other side, weaving silent spells to help him rest. He groaned, grabbing her hand halfheartedly and holding it away._

_“Don’t want to rest?” She asked, slipping her hand from his and running her fingers through his hair_

_“Would rather be awake with you.”_

_It hurt, in some ways. There was such a clear divide between them, a line neither of them were willing to cross, and yet he said things sometimes that made the line blur and disappear entirely. She sighed, weaving more spells, until he was on the verge of sleep, just ready to fall over._

_“Tell me a secret.” He mumbled_

_It was his favorite request, when on the verge of sleep, his defenses finally stripped. It was the time she liked him best. She gave him half a smile and shook her head._

_“Don’t you know all my secrets by now?”_

_“Hah.” He barked out a sarcastic laugh, opening one eye to give her an incredulous look_

_“Fine.” She rolled her eyes, “Ask your question.”_

_“Hmm.” His eyes fluttered open a moment and his fingertips traced against her cheek, “What’s the tattoo mean?”_

_“It designates my spot in the community.” She replied easily, “I was my grandmothers second. She was the keeper of magic and I was trained to take over her role one day.”_

_He mumbled an affirmative that he’d heard her but kept his eyes closed and let his hand drop back to her lap. She held it there a moment, running her thumb over his knuckles, perpetually bruised or cut._

_“My turn.” She mumbled, waiting to see if she’d get a response_

_“Mhm.” He managed a nod, eyes still closed_

_“The first night you came here…were you looking for help or were you looking for me?”_

_“Hmm I’m getting tired.” He replied, smirking when she laughed, “Why can’t it be both?”_

_“Sleep.” She whispered and he sighed, his face relaxing_

_“Stay.” He breathed back, using the last of his strength to pull her into bed_

_She stayed there a while as he slept, resting gently against his chest and side. He twitched every once and a while, the start of a nightmare perhaps, and she gently eased the dreams away and he went right back to sleeping soundly. For a few, inexcusable moments, she closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat bang against his chest._

_There were so many moments when she could have told him. Surely, he had noticed she’d packed a bag, she never packed a bag. She could have stayed up with him like he wanted, told him the whole plan. He wouldn’t approve, not at first, but he would help without a question. People at the academy were asking questions, she knew it would happen sooner or later. She’d overstayed her welcome and so she had to leave._

_In the darkest part of the night, she wrote a short letter and folding it into the witchers hand as he slept. If she had asked, he would have escorted her anywhere, she was sure of that. But for some reason, a reason she couldn’t quite comprehend, she thought it better to do this on her own._

And she had, hadn’t she? She paused at the doorway to the guest room and imagined what Geralt had seen when he woke. It would have been daylight by then and everything would have been in its proper place. Everything, except her. 

Even now, years later, she could repeat the letter word for word. She’d rewritten it so many times, trying to explain herself but not give herself away. 

_Geralt-_

_I know if I were to ask you, you’d accompany me anywhere, but this is something I must do for myself. Alone. There have been ~~many questions~~ rumors about me at the academy and it’s no longer safe for me to stay. I must leave and find my own path. ~~I'm sorry.~~ Thank you for everything you’ve done and for a friendship I don’t deserve. Meeting you has been the best thing to happen to me since I left my family. I'm sorry. _

_Gwen_

She sighed, hanging her head. So many years, so many regrets. And now, perhaps, was a chance to atone. She took the steps down to the first level slowly, half expecting the witcher to be gone already. But he was seated at the table with Liam, watching the godling with an amused expression. 

“Feet on the floor please.” She muttered to Liam, dragging a hand through her dark hair as he jumped from the table to the floor 

He flinched hard when he landed, holding onto his side for a moment with a screwed up face, and then going back to bouncing. He invaded Geralt’s space without a care, grinning. 

“Oh I know the way, that’s _easy_.” 

“What’s easy?” She stretched and poured water into three mugs

“Payment for the witcher saving me.” Liam bounced on his heels again, right next to Geralt

“Payment?” She glanced back 

Liam closed his mouth and looked expectantly at Geralt, as though he’d already said something he wasn’t supposed to. For Geralt’s part, he remained cool and collected, slowly meeting her gaze. 

“Liam offered to show me the way through a cave system nearby.” He explained, “To help with my contract.” 

“When?” She frowned

“Today!” Liam bounded forward, grabbing a mug from her hand and sloshing water onto the floor

“Absolutely not.” She turned to Geralt, “He’s _hurt_.” 

“He offered.” Geralt replied weakly, raising his hands in surrender

“We owes him, we do.” Liam replied, setting the mug precariously on the edge of the table and crossing his arms across his chest in defiance 

“I tried to tell him he didn’t owe me a thing.” Geralt was quick to add

“Don’t bother.” She sighed, “Liam has an intrinsic set of honor and morality, even if he doesn’t show it in a particularly tactful way.” 

Liam stuck out his tongue in response and she nudged him out of the way with her foot, sitting down in the empty seat across from Geralt and handing him a mug of water. 

“What’s right is right, I ain’t no boor.” Liam replied, grabbing onto his side slightly now that the adrenaline of waking up was beginning to wear off 

“I know, Liam.” She sighed

“He needs a guide through the misty cave with the knotted tree. I know that tree, like the back of me hand, I know the way…”

“So do I.” She interrupted, raising an eyebrow

Liam’s mouth snapped shut at that and he frowned, going back to crossing his arms like a hurt child. Emotions flowed so easily from him, unchecked. She turned back to Geralt, eyeing him carefully. 

“What do you expect to find in the cave?” 

“I’m not sure. Need to scout it out, see if there are any clues as to what’s been killing hunters in the area.” 

“Very well.” She shrugged, “I’ll be your guide, in return for saving Liam’s life.” 

“Hey s’not your burden.” Liam pulled on the edge of her robe with a whine 

“You’re still healing.” She retorted, ending the conversation with a curt shake of her hair, “When would you like to leave, Geralt?”

“Would rather be there when the sun’s out, if possible.” He replied, ignoring Liam’s tantrum 

Gwen glanced out the window, at the already darkening skies even for such an early hour. A storm was coming. Still, a debt was a debt and on this, she agreed with Liam. They did owe him. 

“We should leave soon. Rain’s coming.” 

She drank the rest of the water, ignoring Liam’s sulking, and grabbed a piece of jerky hanging in the corner of the room. Then she was back upstairs, stepping into a more outdoor friendly outfit. Black pants, black boots, a deep red shirt that tied around her arms and had a long hood attached, and a corset with a magical enchanted barrier. 

Liam was still pouting when she came back downstairs, his back turned to her as he rubbed his healing side and the knot still on the back of his head. Geralt hadn’t moved from his place at the table, leaning back in the chair casually. 

“You don’t have to do this.” His voice was low as he caught her wrist, holding her in place momentarily 

“I know.” 

She pulled out of his grasp and filled a canteen with water for the journey. Geralt shrugged after that and then stood with her, pulling his swords onto his back and buckling anything that was out of place. She grabbed a bow and arrow, something she’d recently become proficient at, and then turned to Liam in the doorway. 

“Don’t follow.” To which Liam stuck out his tongue and moped

“Liam.” She sighed and took a few steps back into the house

“S’not your burden.” He repeated

“It’s because I care about you.” She replied, “ _That’s_ my burden.” 

At this he perked very slightly, giving her a small, embarrassed smile, and then shoved his head into the stack of bedding and hay he called home with a dramatic sigh. She rolled her eyes, leaving the room with a low muttered enchantment that would slowly put him to sleep. 

“It’s not far. I’ll teleport us part of the way and then it’s about three miles to the south of that.” She mumbled, ignoring Geralt’s groan at the mention of a teleport

She opened the portal, allowing them both to step through simultaneously. She knew the general area of the cave but it had been a long time since she’d ventured this far south. Still, some of the markers were familiar and she was able to teleport fairly close. Geralt fell in line beside her and they walked towards the edge of the trees in the clearing they’d landed in. 

“You know the area well?” He asked after a moment

“Of course.” 

“I didn’t realize sorceresses spent much time exploring dangerous forests on their own.” He replied, a friendly, albeit curious, jab in her direction

She merely laughed, glancing over at him with an amused expression. His eyes traced over her smile and then met her gaze once more. 

“Perhaps the ones you know, don’t.” She shrugged, “But I was born in the wilds. This is as much my home as any building.” 

They followed a worn pathway for a while and then she veered left and took him along a small river. When it finally tightened down into what could only really be called a creek, she went to cross it. Geralt grabbed her hand on the other side and pulled her out of the low water and onto the embankment. 

“Let’s take a break, we’ve been walking a while.” He suggested

“I hope you’re not slowing your pace on account of me.” 

He grinned in response but sat down on a tree stump nearby nonetheless. She joined him on the adjacent stump, stretching out her legs and reaching for the water she brought. 

“I’m surprised you’re out here on your own.” He commented after a moment of silence

“You mean you’re surprised I’m not taking part in some political struggle like so many of my colleagues?” She clarified, offering him water, “Perhaps I could be whispering in a kings ear? Murdering my way to power?”

“Well, that’s one way of putting it.” 

“Doesn’t interest me.” She replied lightly, “As far as I’m concerned, the world of kings and politics is as foreign as what’s on the other side of the moon. I’ve spent most of my life studying healing magic because I thought I could make a difference that way, like my people. It didn’t really work out like I thought so I turned to studying more ancient magic, forgotten magic. It’s been…trying.” 

“Trying?”

“After Aretuza, freedom was…difficult. The academy might have felt like a cage, but it protected as much as it restrained. Out in the rest of the world, by myself for the first time, I had to hide what I was. It was a steep learning curve.”

“You never told me why those solders pursued you here.” He stated, raising an eyebrow

“No, I didn’t.” She laughed, letting her hood fall for a moment and pushing stray hairs from her face, “Perhaps another time, we still have a ways to hike.” 

He looked like he was going to say more but she stood, brushing herself off and rearranging her bow on her back. They began walking again, heading in the opposite direction of the creeks flow. 

“I haven’t been to this cave in years, I apologize. If I had a clearer picture of it in my mind I would have just teleported us.” 

“No need to apologize, it’s been a pleasant hike.” He replied easily

She felt the back of her neck burn in embarrassment but merely pulled her hood up and over her head to cover it. The first raindrops began to fall, sprinkling around them, but Geralt apparently didn’t feel a need to cover his head and merely fell in line beside her. 

The rain let up some time later as they continued on in silence and she pushed her hood away, stifled by the heat. Geralt was behind her now, rolling up the sleeves of his tunic and jacket. She noticed the bracelet, faintly glowing on his wrist again. 

“That was the first magical object I ever made.” She noted, nodding towards his wrist, “And it doesn’t even work.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugged

“Oh?” She cocked her head to the side, “Then why keep it?” 

“You made it, Gwen.” He said quietly, not looking at her, “Of course I kept it.” 

The words cemented her in place, a rock rising in her throat. He stopped as well, glancing over at her. 

“I should have told you where I was going.” She whispered, “I shouldn’t have left that way.”

“I’m not angry with you, if that’s what you think.” He replied

“I’m angry with myself.” 

“Don’t be.” He shook his head 

“It’s been almost five years, Geralt.” She chastised, “And it’s entirely my fault.” 

He took a step forward to meet her, his mouth forming a frown easily. She thought for a moment he might hug her, and she felt strange for wanting him to. Still, she couldn’t come up with an excuse for not telling him, she didn’t have one. And after she’d left, everything happened so quickly. 

She spent months traveling, learning ancient magic from every conceivable teacher she could find. She travelled the old paths, the ways her ancestors and her family had gone. She picked up new skills, learned to use a bow, and kept herself busy. And once she’d found the clearing, chased there by the same group who had killed her family, she decided maybe lying low was a better option. 

Still, she kicked herself sometimes, especially now that she wasn’t constantly on the move. She’d abandoned Geralt without a word to where she was going and never a letter to tell him she was safe. 

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m glad we happened into each other again.” She forced the overly intimate words out, “And I hope this isn’t the last time I see you.” 

“It won’t be.” His words were far more confident than her own 

They were silent for the rest of the hike and soon they reached what appeared to be a large meadow. She stopped in the middle and pointed to an ancient, enormous tree with roots that twisted and curled well above her head. 

“The cave’s under the tree?” Geralt asked, taking a few steps closer and peering around 

“Yes.” 

He peered below into the darkness and then glanced back at her. She felt uneasy now that they were here, like something deep below was unsettled and wild, waiting for them to fall into a trap. The tree had never felt this way before and she’d been here several times. 

“You’ve taken me this far.” Geralt began, “Any debt you think you owe…”

“I promised to take you through the cave and I will.” She shook her head, “Help me down.” 

He sighed but grabbed her hand, holding her arm taut as she took the first few steps into darkness. The rocks were slippery, wet, but she found her footing and slipped her hand from his a moment later. Inside, she cast a spell for light, peering into the dark crevices of the cave. 

“See anything?” Geralt was beside her, following the light she cast

“No.” She closed her eyes, probing out in the darkness for any magic, “But I don’t have cat eyes.” 

He chuckled and shook his head. They stayed there a moment, the wind whistling in the small crevice beneath the tree. She couldn’t feel anything, not anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps she was just on edge. She sighed, and took a few steps forward. 

“Stay behind me, please.” Geralt caught her arm and held her back 

She naturally thought to fight him, insisting she could take care of herself, but he was already moving forward and honestly, she wasn’t the least bit mad about not having to trek into the darkness alone. They followed a musty passageway, lined with roots and clumps of old dirt, heading towards the main chamber. 

Halfway there she paused. She suddenly felt ill, her stomach twisting into knots. Geralt seemed to sense it and he stopped as well, glancing back. She touched the edge of the cave wall, trying to probe forward into the darkness, to ease whatever was bothering her. The cool rock shed no secrets though and she frowned, meeting Geralts gaze. 

“If we make it through this, I propose we finish off a bottle of Beauclair White I’ve had sitting around for ages.” She muttered nervously 

Geralt’s face softened very slightly and he reached out to gently squeeze her elbow. She felt better for a moment, watching him take the lead again, but the darkness around them was heavy and she knew something wasn’t right.

After what felt like a lifetime, they finally entered the main chamber of the cave. Here, rain fell through cracks in the ceiling and trees seemed to grow in various strange angles, reaching for the sunlight that no doubt came through the same cracks the rain was now penetrating. A strange mist hovered along the floor of the cave, making it hard to see much past their own fingers. 

“Something’s wrong.” She breathed the words and Geralt stopped moving

“Magic?” He asked and she stared out into the blackness

“I…don’t know.” She was still casting a spell for light, though they didn’t need it as much now in the open cave

She let the light flutter away and then closed her eyes, kneeling on the ground. She pressed her palms against the rocky floor, pressing her magic through the tiny crevices. Silver light trickled through the cracks in the floor, all the way to the back of the cave and up the wall. 

“Something’s here.” She breathed, eyes opening wide

He took a few steps forward and then paused, listening hard. She was certain her own pounding heartbeat probably obscured much of whatever else there was to hear in the first place and she tried to slow her breathing. She stood, taking a step forward, but he held up his hand to stop her. 

“Shit.” 

He turned suddenly and barreled into her, slamming them both onto the ground. The air left her lungs in a whoosh as they impacted and she barely had time to realize he’d saved her from whatever creature had jumped from behind her. 

“Leshen.” 

The words barely made it past his lips when he was lifted off her, tossed like a rag doll to the other side of the cave by a tentacle-like arm of roots. Above her, the monster loomed, keeping her in place. 

It had a skull for a head and made soft, grating, breathing noises that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She backed away, pressing herself against the closest cave wall as it closed in. Already roots were beginning to rise around her, cocooning her in a deadly cage. 

Her hand was at her throat, a nervous habit, gripping onto her grandmothers necklace. What would she do? What would she tell her? The leshen made a grating noise as it dragged itself closer and a branch ripped through the ground, slicing across her cheek. 

“ _Aenye!_ ” She smashed her hands out to the side and fire erupted in a ring around her 

The roots rescinded quickly and the monster gave a shriek, turning into a burst of ravens and flying to the opposite side of the cave. Geralt was finally on his feet again, drawing a silver sword. He glanced back at her as she pushed through the dead branches and then he turned to face the monster as it materialized again. 

Gwendolyn was moving after that, finding her mind, and she pulled the bow from her back. She enchanted her arrows to burn and pointed the first at the creatures head. She’d never fought a leshen, though her grandmother had talked about them as she taught her about monsters by a fire every night. 

Fire was its weakness, the only one that was coming to mind, and her arrows made it pause long enough for Geralt to get in a good hit of silver. She pulled another arrow back, aiming at the monster, but it escaped as a murder of ravens a moment later and the arrow splintered against the back wall. 

There was a moment when she thought it was nearly over. The monster seemed drained and time seemed to slow around her. She could feel sweat pooling at the back of her neck, could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. But then Geralt was on the ground and a root was sticking through his shoulder. 

She didn’t know she was running until she slid beside him. The leshen transformed into birds and moved away slightly, screeching. Geralt grimaced, reaching for the root in his shoulder to pull it out. 

“Geralt?” She pressed her hand against the wound as the root pulled back through the ground

Already blood spurted through her fingertips. In the next moment, roots struck up through the ground, some going through him, others slicing against her arm and surrounding them in a trap. It was hopeless. They made eye contact for a moment and then the roots pulled back out, leaving behind a map of wounds across his chest and stomach. 

“No, no.” She couldn’t feel the pain of her own injuries as her hands automatically tried to cover the wounds, some instinctual part of her trying to keep the blood inside 

The monster rematerialized nearby and began walking towards them, dead eyes staring at her. She whimpered, pressing her hands against his chest, against one of the bigger wounds. Geralts eyes rolled back into his head and he remained dead weight against the ground, his skin turning paler by the moment as he lost more blood. 

There was a moment of utmost clarity when the world seemed to stop in front of her. She saw Geralt, eyes closed, blood trickling out of his mouth; she felt her own pulse hammering against her neck, choking her; she saw the leshen, arms outstretched. She shivered and closed her eyes a moment, hearing only her breathing. 

And then a fire raged around them, spiraling around and around. It rose up high above them, obscuring the leshen from view and destroying the branches that caged them. She heard the leshen scream but she didn’t care, she just wanted it away from them. The fire ran in concentric circles all the way around them, hitting the very edge of the cave. Finally, she did the only thing she could think of as the fire raged around them: she opened a portal and pulled him through. 

Landing hard on the ground in the safety of her home was a comfort she wasn’t nearly prepared for. A few roots made the journey with them but they twitched and died as soon as the portal shut behind them, hissing and turning to ash that rose unnaturally in the air. She sobbed in a breath, horrified to see the amount of blood pooling around Geralt’s lifeless form. 

“Geralt?” She breathed his name, heaving herself over to him and pressing her hands against his chest, “No, no, no…”

“Liam!” She didn’t realize how loud she screamed until the godling came crashing into the room, eyes wide and terrified 

“H-help me…p-please…we…it…” She was dragging Geralts shirt away, pulling at it viciously to get to the wounds underneath

“I told you I should have gone!” Liam was darting around the room, collecting herbs and tools, “I told you!” 

She ignored him, finally getting the straps and shirt away and pushing his swords off to the side. There was so much blood, he was losing too much. Liam brought her a towel and she wiped some of it away, whispering incantations through her tears. The smallest wounds began to heal, slowly, but they were all so deep. She fished in his bag for potions she knew he always carried. 

“Drink.” She commanded his lifeless body to consume the potion, pulling him up in her arms and tipping the vial into her mouth

He coughed some of it up, some blood too, and his eyes fluttered momentarily before they shut again. She grabbed the materials Liam had brought over, throwing them into a bowl and brutishly pulverizing them into a paste as she mumbled more spells. It took moments before she could smear the mixture over his wounds, her hands shaking. 

What if he didn’t make it? 

No, no, no, he had to. 

_He had to._

Her hands shook until she’d used the entire batch, his chest and arms completely covered. She shoved the bowl away and Liam went to get more. The wounds were so deep and there were so many and it terrified her. And the scars…there were so many scars, so many she’d never seen. It made something deep within her hurt. 

Finally, _finally_ the blood stopped. She made another batch of the paste and covered his back with it. Geralt continued to take short, shallow breaths, unaware of the rest of the world as she wrapped bandages around him. She levitated his body off the floor, taking him upstairs and into the spare bedroom. She put him in bed, grazing over the bandages with the tips of her fingers. 

Thin rings of silver light erupted from her fingertips, encircling him. It was natural, so familiar. How many times had she healed him before? But this time…no clever banter, no gentle teasing. She longed for him to say something, anything. She wanted him to sigh, to smirk, anything. 

But he stayed stoic, cold, and terrifyingly silent.

Some of his wounds began to tighten closed with the help of magic but it was a slow process, draining. She could feel herself faltering, the rings almost buzzing in and out of focus in front of her eyes. A few moments later and she collapsed in a heap on the floor, the tiny, silver strings of light still trailing from her fingers and wrapping haphazardly around him, barely visible. 

She couldn’t stop, she had to try, had to keep going. She didn’t realize she was crying until a broken sob rattled her chest. Liam poked his head in and watched her with giant eyes from the doorway. 

“Gwen?” His voice was quiet, scared

She sobbed in return, her shoulders shaking. The tiny godling went crashing down the stairs and reappeared a moment later, a bunch of wet wildflowers in his hand and water dripping from his hair. 

“I picked these for you.” He put them in her lap, “And I’ll clean the kitchen. I’ll clean up everything.” 

She didn’t respond, she couldn’t, her throat felt like it was closing in. She forced more energy into the silver rings and they lit up once more, for a moment, before they died down to a weak glow. Liam left the room again, scared, and brought back a towel. He pressed it gently against the gash on her arm, lighting her skin up in pain. 

“You’re bleeding.” He whispered, “Gwen, you’re bleeding.” 

When she didn’t respond, he dropped the towel and stood directly in front of her at his full height. He cupped her face in both hands and forced her to look at him, his eyes wide, scared. 

“Gwen.” 

She could feel the magic trickling away from her. Liam was trying to calm her down, she could feel it at the base of his palms. His wide eyes were staring over her face, trying to figure out what he could do.

“Just leave me alone, Liam. Please.” 

The godling sighed but retreated from the room nonetheless. She stayed sitting there a moment longer, a few strands of magic all that kept her connected to Geralt. It felt like hours, sitting there, draining herself. She could barely keep herself sitting up and she swayed, lightheaded. It was all she could do. There was nothing else to do. 

Geralt remained breathing, unbothered. Without the chaos around her, the real world closed in. Everything hurt, her skin felt like it was on fire. There was blood trickling down her arm, her fingertips sticky, but she ignored it. The ringing in her ears was gone but it was replaced with a constant, heavy thumping that pounded behind her eyes. 

She took a shaky breath, brushing the last of her tears away with the back of her arm. She dragged herself away from the bed, letting the silver strands pull and then dissipate into the air as she kicked off her boots. She stood, swaying hard, holding onto the edge of the bed, and then careened herself into the next room. 

She touched a statue of a raven on the bedside table, watching a portal open in front of her. One last glance towards Geralts room and then she pushed herself through.


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be posted a while ago but alas, life.

“Gwen!” 

Geralt shot up, drenched in sweat, and immediately regretted the action. His entire body ached, more so than it had in recent memory. He glanced down with a grimace, at the wounds covered in bandages that were leaking a thick, green poultice. It was hardening into a cast now and smelled strongly of bergamot. His immediate urgency was stifled as he realized he was in Gwen’s home, in bed, wrapped in a poultice she had made. 

He could still feel the magic she’d left, an imprint he’d never mentioned to her. He’d never mentioned how it felt when she healed him either, how his body craved it sometimes when she wasn’t around to help, how the feeling could stick with him for hours if he stayed very still and kept his eyes closed. 

Right now, it felt like tiny cobwebs, wrapped in imperfect circles around his entire body, light and teasing as a feather. Something was wrong, the imprint didn’t feel like it usually did. He shifted slightly, fighting through the fog, and glanced around the room. He saw her boots on the ground first and then the splattering of blood that wasn’t his own. 

“She brought you back through a portal.” Liam was leaning against the doorway, wringing his hands 

Geralt felt a spike of adrenaline. He followed the splatter of blood out of the room and listened hard but he couldn’t hear her. Not her breathing, not her heartbeat, she wasn’t there. Or she was…

“Is she all right?” His voice sounded more hoarse than usual as he refused to entertain the idea that she was dead

The godling slowly shook his head back and forth, his wide eyes locked onto his. The adrenaline spiked again, and he frowned, impatient. He managed to sit up fully, despite the pain, and swing his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Where is she?” He growled, glaring at nothing in particular

“In the secret place.” Liam whispered, glancing over at her room 

Relief washed over him in waves. Not dead, then. He could work with that. He slowly stood, barely able to keep his balance as pain shot through his body. He managed to push himself forward, clinging to the side of the doorway, and then followed the godling into her room. It was empty but Liam touched a statue and a portal burst to life. 

“I’m now allowed.” Liam cocked his head to the side and watched the portal spin, “Please help her.” 

He stared up with huge, green eyes and Geralt nodded to acknowledge him. He took a few stumbling steps forward, crossing through the portal with his eyes closed. He hated portals. 

It took a few moments to get his bearings, to keep his mind from throbbing to the point of blindness. He was in a forest somewhere, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen it before, and the sky was dark except for a million tiny pinprick stars and a giant full moon. He gripped onto a tree in front of him, breathing heavy, and then tried to listen to her. 

He heard the water first, running somewhere in front of him, and above that, quieter, the sound of crying. The blood came after that, tiny splatters that smelled like copper. He followed the noise, clinging from tree to tree as he slowly made his way forward. The trees became sparser and then finally opened up to a meadow, lit entirely by the moon overhead, and a large, artificial pool. Her back was to him, still clothed, but her knees were against her chest and the water lapped up her back. 

The pool was clear, slightly steaming and warm. Gwen had a bottle of something in her hand, he couldn’t make it out exactly, but she took a gulp and he noticed it was almost empty nonetheless. He took a few steps closer, snapping a twig. 

“Liam, I said…” Her voice carried an odd pitch and he frowned

“Gwen.” 

He startled her, almost enough to drop the bottle, and she whipped around to face him. She furiously brushed the tears away and set the bottle on the ground behind her, turning her back to him again. 

“What’re you doing here?”

“Checking on you.” He replied, taking another step closer

She slowly turned back, the tears gone, and gave him a disapproving expression as he flinched. He made it to the edge of the pool and then slowly, painfully, sank down into the water with her. 

“You should have stayed in bed.” She mumbled, “You’re hurt.” 

“Would rather know you’re ok.” 

“I’m fine.” She replied, exasperated

“Mhm.”

He leaned back against the edge of the pool with a groan and everything in her chest throbbed. It took him a moment of shifting to get into a comfortable position before he finally sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes. She’d been out there for hours but she never expected to see him up and moving so soon. Relief covered her like a blanket, but it felt suffocating too. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

His eyes snapped open to give her a confused expression, but she merely looked away. Her insides felt like they were vibrating but she couldn’t hide how relieved she was to hear his voice, to see him here, alive, next to her. 

She couldn’t stop herself, her arms gently wrapping around his neck, barely touching him, afraid to touch him. She pressed her face against the side of his head and her eyes brimmed with tears. He pressed a hand to the back of her head, holding her there for a long moment. When she finally managed to pull away, she put trembling hands in front of her, attempting to heal him again, but he caught her and closed her hands in his. 

“Don’t.” He whispered, “You’re exhausted. I’m not going anywhere.” 

She pulled her hands back, out of his own, and then stared out at the vast expanse of the pool she’d created so many years ago. It went farther than the horizon, much like the ocean, and the water remained warm and inviting forever. Behind her, the meadow, was one of the few places she could definitively remember from her childhood. 

“What is this place?” Geralt asked, watching her

“I created it years ago.” She replied, “It’s…a memory. Sort of.” 

“A memory of what?” 

“A place I stayed with my family.” She shrugged, “One of the few places I can picture in my mind clearly.” 

She grabbed the wine again, taking another heady gulp, swaying very slightly. When she offered the bottle to him, he took it without a word, taking a drink himself. 

“Where are you hurt?” He asked as he set the bottle down, trying to turn her towards him

“I’m fine.” She retorted, refusing to look at him 

“You’re not.” He rubbed his thumb against the cut across her cheek and it burned wickedly 

She sighed, hanging her head. Something like regret, or maybe guilt, was circling and closing in her heart. She grabbed the bottle again, finishing the last bit of the wine. As she stared at the empty bottle, it disintegrated by magic, blowing away in the wind. She conjured another bottle in midair, caught it and opened it to take another drink. 

“None of this is your fault, Gwen.” He tried a new approach and she laughed, a little drunk

“I was useless.” 

“You saved my life.” He countered

“Only because you had to save mine.” She sighed, “If I hadn’t been there…”

“I’d be dead.” 

It hurt. A lot. 

She glanced over at him, tears brimming her bottom lashes again. He managed to lean forward slightly, brushing them away with his thumb as they tumbled down her cheeks. She was drunk, she knew it that moment, and her face burst into a blush at his touch. 

“Don’t do this to yourself.” He mumbled

She sighed again, dragging her hand through her damp hair. He was right, of course. It was over, they were here, together, safe. Even with his horrific injuries, he was alive and he was getting better. 

They were halfway through the second bottle, drinking and sitting in silence, when she accessed his injuries again. It was easy to forget when he was here beside her, talking and breathing, that his injuries were truly life threatening. Even now, she felt he wasn’t completely out of the woods. She hated that he pretended not to be in pain for her own sake. 

“You really should rest.” She mumbled

“I thought I was resting.” He was leaning back against the edge of the pool, his eyes closed

“You know what I mean.” 

“I’ll go back when you go back.” He didn’t open his eyes 

“Fine.” 

With that she stood, dropping the bottle into the meadow where it sunk into the ground and disappeared. Geralt glanced up and then graciously took the hand she offered, helping him to stand. He wrapped it around her shoulder and they walked back through the woods together slowly. He smelled like blood, sweat, pain. She could almost feel it reverberating off him and back into her, rattling her ribs like a chime. 

She opened the portal and pulled them both across, back into her own room. Slowly, carefully, they made their way back to the guest room and she laid him back in bed, scanning over his injuries and the half washed off poultice. 

“Stay here.” 

“Hmm.” 

His eyes were closed again and she made her way downstairs. Liam was asleep, curled up on his nest and slightly snoring. She slowly mixed a new poultice, not nearly as frenzied as before, and breathed incantations over it. Her arm throbbed, an injury she continued to ignore. 

When the poultice was ready again, she headed back upstairs, silently standing in the doorway. Geralt looked peaceful like this, his eyes closed, his body relaxed, breathing silently and slowly. She wondered vaguely if she should just wait, let him rest in peace for a while. 

“I’m awake.” His voice startled her, his eyes opening very slightly to glance towards the doorway

She must have looked confused because he smirked as she came closer and closed his eyes again. Something coiled tight in her chest and she sat on the edge of the bed, balancing the bowl in her lap. 

“How’d you know?” 

“I can hear your heartbeat.” 

She was glad his eyes were still closed as another blush made its way across her face. The bandages were easy enough to peel away, baring his chest and all the wounds still there. She dipped her fingers into the clay-like poultice and Geralt relaxed again, apparently satisfied with mortifying her. 

“It’s a little cold.” She apologized before smearing the mess over a wound on his shoulder 

Goosebumps erupted over his skin but he didn’t move, didn’t flinch. She continued across his shoulder, his sternum. He contracted only once as her fingers dipped between his ribs, his upper lip twitching very slightly as he flinched away. 

“I…I need to…” She could quite get the words out, the mixture dripping from her fingers slightly 

“Go ahead.” 

He didn’t even open his eyes as she floundered, unsure. It felt like he was testing her, teasing her, or maybe he really just didn’t care. She sighed, wiping her fingers on a towel and then unbuttoning the first and then the second button of his pants to fold them away slightly. 

She followed a prominent vein from his waistband down, disappearing beneath the rest of the cloth, before continuing to smear the poultice on a gash at his hip. He fidgeted slightly when she got close to his waistband but didn’t say a word. Finally, when she was satisfied that he was fully covered, she wiped her hands and placed bandage cloths over everything to keep it in place while it hardened again. Half-lidded eyes met hers and she smiled, leaning back slightly. 

“Sleep.” She whispered

“What about you?” His voice was equally soft 

“What about me?” 

“You arm.” He nodded to the gash she’d been ignoring all night and then traced a thumb against the very edge of the cut on her cheek 

“I’ll be all right.” 

He gave her an incredulous look and she sighed, dipping her fingers into the last remains of the poultice and smearing it over the cut on her arm. It soothed the burning immediately, the smell making her groggy. He scooped a tiny bit onto his own finger and wiped it gently against her cheek, cooling that cut as well. 

She smiled slightly, a ghost, and then extinguished the candle beside his bed and plummeted them both into darkness. Faint silvery lines, barely there, like thread, encircled his chest from her fingertips, fading in and out. 

“Gwen.” He chastised her lightly, grabbing her hands to stop the flow of magic

“Sleep.” This time she said it was with a gentle spell, pulling a hand away to brush a stray piece of hair from his face

His eyelids finally dropped and he sighed, content, his hands dropping down to her lap. She stayed there a moment too long, putting the bowl on the bedside table, before sinking to the floor. 

It was a strange realization, how she’d almost lost him. Her heart hurt, her head hurt, the poultice was making her drowsy. She thought about crawling through the hall to her own bed but decided it would take too much energy. Instead, she curled up beside the bed, resting her head on the edge, and plummeted into unconsciousness.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Geralt woke first, his head full of cobwebs and his muscles relaxed deep into the mattress. A spell, had to be. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so soundly, with no dreams or nightmares. He heard her soft breathing soon after, curled up against the side of the bed. Her dark hair cascaded in waves down her back and her eyelashes cast a shadow down her cheeks from the first bit of sunlight streaming in.

She looked…peaceful. Finally. 

He couldn’t help himself, it had been too long. He reached out and gently pulled her from the floor. She barely woke up, groaning, and then curled up beside him on the bed with a sigh, her eyes already closed again. He stayed there a while, watching her sleep, and wondered just what had happened over the past five years. 

After a while, when the sun was high overhead, he brushed his thumb against her unmarred cheek and she stirred. Her eyes fluttered once, twice, and then she yawned and stretched away from him. 

“Must have been more tired than I thought.” She yawned again but didn’t mention him dragging her into bed, “How’re you feeling?” 

“Much better.” 

She wasn’t sure if he was lying for her sake or not but she appreciated it this early in the morning. She kicked her legs over the side of the bed and she brushed her fingers through her tangled hair. 

“I’m going to make some food. Come down whenever you’re ready.” 

She slipped from the room a moment later, pulling on a light dress. The poultice on her arm had hardened into a cast that would need to be washed off later but for now it kept her arm from hurting. She wiped away the small amount on her face, glad to see the cut beneath was completely healed. 

As promised, Liam had cleaned the kitchen to the best of his abilities (though she was certain she would be finding random items in cupboards for weeks) and he’d somehow gotten the stain of blood out of the floorboards. He dozed lightly in the nest he’d created, his limbs sprawled at random angles. 

“Liam.” She whispered his name, crouching down beside him 

His eyes fluttered and he yawned, still asleep. Still, he reached for her and she pulled him into her arms, hugging him tightly. 

“Thank you.” She breathed the words and he pressed his face to her shoulder

“Sorry I sent the witcher to the secret place.” He mumbled, still trying to wake up 

“Want breakfast?” She let him lay down again and he nodded, closing his eyes

She went to work taking inventory. Eggs, bread, smoked pork hanging to dry, some fruit, potatoes. It would have to do. She went to work whipping up food, using magic to cook multiple things at once, as Geralt descended the stairs. He took it slow, hanging onto the railing, but she was already amazed by how much he’d healed considering the severity of his wounds. 

He sat down at the table and she brought him a glass of water as Liam finally began to wake up to the smell of food, crawling into the seat beside him and resting his head on the table. She made potatoes, fried ham, some eggs and toast and brought them over to the table with a basket of fruit. The three of them ate in relative silence and Gwen was suddenly aware of how she’d almost lost both of them in just as many days. 

She stared down at her plate, at a half-eaten pomegranate, and swirled around some eggs beside it. Being near them, pretending everything was fine, pretending that it was all ok…it made something twist desperately in her stomach. 

Liam announced he had somewhere to be, something about a new muddy watering hole that had opened up in the storm, and then he crashed through the front door and took off, leaving them alone. 

“You all right?” 

His voice brought her back to reality and she glanced up, nodding. He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt and the caked on poultice and bandages looked strange. He caught her staring but didn’t say anything and went back to eating. 

“We should wash that off soon…reassess your injuries.” She mumbled, cocking her head to the side

“We?” He teased, glancing up with a smirk 

“I…I just…” She stammered and he leaned back to fully appreciate the pressure he’d put on her 

She scowled, finally moving her half-eaten plate to a basin to clean later and turning her back to him. The playful expression was still on his face when she turned back but his eyes softened slightly. 

“Is this the part where we share a bottle of Beauclair White?” He asked innocently 

She couldn’t help but grin, through her sheer embarrassment, and a flood of relief cascaded over her. She couldn’t explain it, how truly relieved she was to have this sarcastic, childish witcher back. She fished the bottle off the top shelf and dangled it in front of him. 

“The last bit of civilization in these parts, I’m afraid.” She shrugged, handing him the bottle

“Hmm.” He glanced down and then followed her as she motioned towards the stairs 

She walked ahead, stepping into his room and over to the tub in the corner. She filled it with steaming water with a flick of her hand and then paused to watch the steam rise seductively from the surface. Geralt made it into the room, blocking her from escaping by the time she turned around. 

“Let me know if you need anything.” She nodded towards the tub

“Not helping anymore?” He teased

“Only if you ask nicely.” 

His eyes widened slightly, and he raised his eyebrows but otherwise he didn’t give away his surprise. Instead, he took a few steps into the room, setting the bottle on the dresser and closing in on her. He grabbed her elbow, perhaps afraid she might flee, and kept her in front of him. 

Geralt glanced down at her lips through half-lidded eyes and then back up to meet her gaze again. She felt like she was swimming, suffocating, drowning? She couldn’t quite place the feeling.

“Please?” His voice was barely a hoarse whisper as he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers

He pulled away a moment later, scanning over her face. The blush she’d tried so hard to hide was quick to resurface and she ducked her head away. 

“That nice enough?” His gruff, teasing voice held her in place and she rolled her eyes

“Get in.” She nodded towards the steaming bath and he grinned, taking his time as she sauntered over 

She worked on opening the bottle of wine while he got undressed, sinking into the water with a groan. He sighed, resting his arms on either side of the tub and relaxing. 

“Warm enough?” She closed in 

“Perfect.” 

She dumped in a bottle of sweet-smelling soap, watching it bubble slightly around him. Then she took a long drink from the bottle, tilting it into his mouth for a drag as well. She settled into a chair beside the tub, near his head, and dipped a small towel into the water. 

The noise he made when she finally dragged the towel against his chest made the hair on her arms stand up. It was deep within his chest, almost a growl, as he settled more comfortably in the tub. She ran the towel over his collarbones, down his chest, over his arms. When she was satisfied that the front of him was nearly all washed away, she leaned him forward and started on his back. 

The skin beneath the poultice looked tender but it was miles away from what it had been the night before. She let him lean back, abandoning the towel on the side of the tub, and pouring a cup of water over his head to soak his hair. She grabbed another bottle, this one shampoo, and worked it into his hair and scalp. 

“Hmm.” He practically melted, “You’re good at this.” 

She grinned in response, though he was unable to see, and continued with deft fingers against his scalp and then the sides of his head. She worked her way down his neck after that, pressing her thumbs in deep to work out knots hidden beneath the muscle. He groaned in response, his fingers twitching ever so slightly. When she pulled her hands away, he let his head hang back against the tub and stared up at her. 

“Relax.” She brushed her fingers gently down his jaw, weaving magic as she went

“You’re cheating.” He grumbled, eyes closing

“Only a little.” She replied, pulling her fingers against the short hair at the side of his head and then back down his jaw again 

She fished for the bottle of wine beside her, taking a deep, heady gulp, and then brushing the bottle against his lips. She poured it slowly, trying to ignore the way his tongue darted out at the last second to catch the remaining drops of liquid on his lips. 

She felt too warm, too exposed. Even sitting here, so close to him, her stomach twisted into knots. Geralt seemed to sense it, or maybe he could hear her heartbeat falter, and he opened his eyes to trace over her face. 

“How’s your arm?” 

She glanced down at the dried poultice, cracks running in every direction. She was far more healed than he was, there was no doubt, and a pang of guilt ripped through her chest. 

“I’ll be fine.” She whispered

“Mhm.” 

He was standing in the next moment, fighting through the relaxing fog she’d created in his mind, and grabbed a towel to wrap around his hips. She drained the tub with magic and soon he stood in front of her. She could barely face him, her eyes tracing over new wounds healing and old, jagged scars across his chest and abdomen. 

“I think it’s your turn.” He knelt in front of her and nodded towards the tub 

“Me?” 

“Mhm.” He gave her a curt nod

He nodded to the tub once more, insistent, and she dutifully raised her hand, filling the tub with steaming water once more. Geralt sat on the edge of the tub, a breath away from her, and traced over her shoulders, collarbones, neck. Her own gaze narrowed on the tub, more than inviting, and then back to his chest, still unable to meet his gaze. 

He leaned forward, gently brushing her hair to the side, exposing her neck. He placed a thumb there, momentarily, to count the beats against her jugular, before he replaced it with his lips.

Her gasp was hardly audible but he stayed there a moment too long, counting, and then hooked the strap of her dress around two fingers and pulled it to the side. She closed her eyes as he moved up her neck, soft kisses, his nose brushing against her sensitive skin as he went. 

“Geralt.” She breathed his name, unable to form a coherent sentence but he ignored her and continued his path to her ear

Was this what she expected when she’d opened her door days ago? Was this what she thought about in the darkest nights, when she was alone with only her memories? Geralt was familiar, was home. Her body betrayed her before her mind ever could.

He bit her ear, more gently than she imagined he could, and then ran a calloused hand over her collarbones and up the back of her neck to tangle in her hair. He held her there a moment, brushing their noses together, before he leaned in and kissed her softly. 

She could feel herself unraveling as his other hand pulled at the remaining strap of her dress, letting it pool around her waist. Goosebumps erupted across her skin but he was quick to lean forward, to cocoon her in his own body heat. 

He sucked on her bottom lip, tracing a rogue hand against her bare ribs, and then pulled away once more. She flushed at the expression on his face, the hunger, his lips slightly parted and his eyes dark and piercing. He licked his lips once and then nodded to the tub, slipping out of the way and pulling her to her feet in one motion. 

The dress cascaded to the ground, baring her completely, but he grabbed her hand and helped her into the tub where she graciously sank under the water. He seemed to ponder the bottles beside the tub for a moment before picking one and dumping it into the water. Lavender. Somehow she wasn’t surprised. 

He grabbed a new rag, dipping it into the water, and then pulled her marred arm out to wash away the poultice. She was surprised, actually, at how gentle he could be. One hand dragged the towel against her arm, gently breaking up the clay, and the other massaged her fingertips, pulling at her knuckles. 

She couldn’t help the satisfied groan that escaped past her lips, nor the blush that rose from the smirk that crossed his own. She closed her eyes in response, willing herself to relax. When the poultice was cleaned away, he moved to her other arm, down her back, her neck, her chest. He seemed to want to chart every part of her and yet something else seemed to be holding him back. 

Soon, he abandoned the towel and ran his fingers through her hair. He shifted behind her, brushing through her hair as she leaned against the edge of the tub. It was heaven, to be taken care of like this. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d let someone in.

“I should have never taken you to that cave.” He whispered after a moment, continuing his slow movements despite her eyes opening 

“You couldn’t have known.” She replied

“It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head, “I put you in danger.”

She stopped him, pulling his hand until he was sitting precariously on the edge of the tub. He looked anywhere but her, the guilt clear across his features. 

“Geralt.”

When he didn’t answer or look up, she pulled on his hand again. His eyes traced over her lips momentarily and then she was dragging his to hers, kissing him gently. 

It took only a moment to pull him into the tub, water sloshing over the side as she grinned. His stoic expression broke into surprise and then a devilish grin of his own as he twisted, sitting below her. She sank into his lap, knees on either side of his hips, as his fingers found purchase against her bare skin. 

A new sense of urgency invaded the space between them and he pulled her forward, hands on either side of her face. She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting his tongue between her lips with a sigh. He twisted a hand into her hair, holding her in place, while the other traced along her ribs, sending jolts of electricity up her spine. 

Gwen sank down in the water more completely, kissing him again and then pulling away just far enough to trail her lips against his jaw, neck, ear. His fingertips bit hard into her lower back, a reminder of the strength hidden just beneath the surface, and he leaned his head back slightly. When she bit his earlobe, his fingers tightened, short nails nipping at her skin. 

He dragged her back to his mouth with one hand, the other on her hip, exploring in every sense of the word. His tongue slowly moved to taste her and then he pulled away, pulling at her bottom lip with his teeth and then sucking his way down her neck. Her back arched in his hands and she could feel the curve of a smirk against her neck, the cocky bastard. 

She fought hard to keep any noises from crossing her lips, though he seemed to be fighting just as hard to break her careful control. They both pulled away for a moment, mouths slightly parted, pupils dilated. It looked like he was going to say something, his lips moving, but then a crash downstairs brought them back to reality. 

Gwen groaned as Liam ransacked the kitchen and leaned her forehead against his neck and shoulder. He chuckled, fingertips light against the base of her spine as goosebumps rose over her arms. She relaxed against the witcher for a moment, biting her lip. 

“I’m…really glad you’re all right.” 

It was something that didn’t need to be said and something she had to get off her chest all at the same time. Geralt seemed surprised by the admission but his arms tightened around her, cementing her against his chest. 

“You too.” He whispered the words behind her ear, nuzzling against the side of her head 

It was too gentle, too innocent. Her heart hurt as he held her there a moment, pressing his face into her damp hair. Finally, as though the moment was too heavy, too much, he lifted her out of the tub and over to the bed. 

He gave her a towel and wrapped another around his hips before he went to light a fire in the fireplace across the room. She lied back against the bed, staring at the ceiling and drying herself off with magic. She halfheartedly used the towel to cover herself up before he returned, lying down on the opposite side of the bed. 

He slid under the sheets and then held them up for her to join him. She shut the door and locked it with magic as another crash downstairs made her flinch. Geralt wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her to his chest. Her fingers splayed out against his ribs and she silently tried to health him without his knowledge. He flinched all the same, quickly grabbing her hand in his own and squeezing lightly. 

“Relax.” He muttered into her hair, “For once.” 

“You could use a few more treatments.” She countered, trying and failing to pull her hand away again 

“And I’m looking forward to them.” She paused her struggles, “But not now. Just…relax with me a while.” 

She gave in, sighing, and he let go of her hand so that he could pull his fingers through her long hair. She kept herself preoccupied tracing over light scars, watching goosebumps rise or the tiny flinches he tried desperately to hide. 

“Why did you single me out? That first night in town…you could have had your pick of more experienced sorcerers.” She whispered

“Because I thought you were beautiful.” He chuckled, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Because I wanted to see you again."

She swallowed back whatever she was going to say and focused on his chest again. She brushed her fingertips against his ribs and then down farther, to the bone of his hip. He sighed, a mixture of contentment and a groan that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. 

“What does it feel like?” She asked after a moment, “The healing spell I mean.” 

“Hmm…little like this.” He motioned to her light fingers with his eyes closed, “More deliberate. Sort of…teasing. Feels…good.”

The last word was an afterthought, like perhaps he was revealing too much. She grinned at the thought though, at how often she had healed him and how it must have driven him mad. These light touches, sometimes focused intently on one spot and other times spanning his entire body, all at the same time. 

There was a moment of weakness where she thought about reading his mind. It would have been easy, it would have made her less anxious, but she refrained. She respected him too much for that, especially about something so frivolous. 

And anyway, she was beginning to believe Geralt was honest to a fault. 

She shifted in his arms slightly, peeling her palm back up his chest. She didn’t try healing him, he was too stubborn for that, but she warmed her hand nonetheless and smoothed it back across his belly. 

“Hmm.” He pressed his face into her hair again, sighing 

She branched out further, spreading the magical warmth from her palm outward and covering more area. His chest flushed very slightly but he didn’t say a word. She twisted the heat into rings, like her healing magic, and then forced it down, lower and lower. 

He jolted when she didn’t stop at his hips, his hand biting into her back. His hips raised ever so slightly in response, the muscles in his abs rippling so easily. He shifted under the blanket, a soft moan escaping through his teeth, muffled even more by her hair. A knot tied tight and hard in her stomach. 

She was tempted, oh so tempted. 

But Liam was downstairs and Geralt was still injured and she wasn’t about to start something she couldn’t finish. Not yet, anyway. She pulled away reluctantly and his taut muscles relaxed again. He was quick to grab her hand in the next moment, twisting to pin her back against the bed and pressing his face into the crook of her neck. 

“Tease.” He groaned as the heat dissipated away

In that moment, she wasn’t quite sure she had the strength to deny him if he pushed her. Her heart hammered out of tune and she bit her lip.

“I’ll have to make it up to you.’ She breathed, using her free hand to delicate drag against his back 

“I’ll hold you to that.” He replied, roughly kissing her throat 

“Sleep.” She whispered, weaving a light spell 

“Not this again.” He muttered and she laughed, keeping him in place

“Shh.”

His eyelids fluttered and then closed and he sighed, sinking deeper against her in his sleep. When he was finally fully sleeping, she stubbornly worked on healing him, creating more scars to trace over at a later date. She was finally starting to calm down, her heartbeat slowing, when his entire body shivered in his sleep and he dragged himself closer. 

She froze as he hitched a leg over her own, pressing himself against her fully. Tiny wisps of silver trickled from her hovering hands to his back and he made a satisfied noise deep in his throat as he snaked an arm around her middle. 

She’d have thought he was faking sleep and teasing her had she not cast the spell herself. His hands bunched slightly against her and then he rocked slowly, once, twice, sighing out another almost silent moan. 

Her heart was beating out of rhythm, sweat beading at the base of her hair. Whatever she had done, whatever temptation, this was worse. She slowly peeled herself away, sinking into the cold bath water to calm down. When she was finally clearheaded, she returned, and snuck back into his arms. He tightened them around her, pulling her in tight in his sleep. For a few more moments she hung on to consciousness, closing her eyes and counting his breaths. And then finally she let herself slip away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning: Torture mention**
> 
> **And now we have a banner. I'm on a roll.  
>  Sorry for the hiatus :(  
> xoxo love you all**

“You’re certain?” 

She hovered in the doorway, hands wringing as he shouldered a pack and tightened a belt around his waist. Geralt met her gaze after that, something softening very slightly in his face. 

“I’ll be back.” He replied, cocking his head slightly to the side 

“I know, I just…” She trailed off, embarrassed

The truth was, she didn’t want him to leave, even to fulfill the contract. He’d only been there days and already it was like they’d never been separated. He filled a part of her she didn’t know was empty and now the thought of that longing scared her. 

He took a few steps forward, cementing himself in front of her as she stared at the ground. It was selfish to want him to stay, to want him to put his life on hold for her. He grabbed her chin between his finger and thumb, forcing her to look up at him.

“I’m coming back.” He was almost teasing her, “I promise.” 

He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, deepening the kiss when she pressed against him. There hadn’t been time to finish what they’d started several days ago and now he was off to finish a contract that had nearly killed him. He strictly forbade her from going with him though, refused to see her hurt again. 

“Come back in one piece.” She replied, a breath away, her face flushed 

“Yes ma’am.” He retorted sarcastically, nipping at her bottom lip playfully 

She scowled, and only half meant it, but took a step back to allow him to finish getting ready. He swung his swords onto his back and then straightened, heading for the door. She followed halfheartedly, her pulse thumping in her throat. 

He paused in the doorway, the first rays of sun hallowing his silhouette, and then he nodded to her. She opened a portal to the cave and watched him begrudgingly step through. The portal closed soon after, leaving the space empty and silent. 

For a moment, she stayed where she was, letting the sun warm her face as her heart thrummed unnaturally. Part of her wished she’d forced the issue, made him take her back there to the cave. She’d be prepared this time, she’d know what to expect. 

But that wasn’t what happened and she quickly stepped back into her home, closing the door behind her. Liam was napping in his mess of blankets and rags, oblivious to the world, and otherwise the house was quiet. She wondered vaguely how she would go back to this, to the mundane, the peaceful. 

There would be more contracts, Geralt wouldn’t stay forever. She would have to come to terms with her existence…or change it altogether. 

For the better part of the morning, she cleaned the kitchen and washed dishes in silence. Liam woke up once, ate a snack, and then went right back to napping, snoring softly. Gwen forced herself to eat at noon and then sat at the table, wringing her hands. It got harder as the sun rose higher, harder to not know if he was ok. 

Twice she went to the door, ready to cast that same portal and go look for him. She even dragged her shoes on, pacing through the kitchen and rubbing the back of her neck. To keep busy, she levitated pieces of wood, spinning them in the air in wide looping patterns around her body. It was a trick she’d learned as a child from one of the women in her tribe. The woman lit the pieces of wood on fire and then distracted drunk men while children pickpocketed them in the night. 

Gwen magically lit the pieces of wood on fire, letting them spin around her. It took a lot of concentration and her mind was momentarily distracted from worry about Geralt. The flaming balls twisted in complicated patterns around her, swirling down her arms and then in loops around her waist. She remembered the dances, the flowing movements coming back naturally. 

When the wood had burned up into ashes, she transported them out the window and sank down into a chair. The sun had already reached its peak and was gradually starting its downward slope now. The sky turned purple and pink as it went, a watercolor painting. 

Suddenly, there was a firm knock at the door. Her heart leapt and she moved forward too quickly, ready to be reunited with him. Already adrenaline was pulsing through her veins. What if he was hurt again? She’d subconsciously pulled out healing herbs earlier that morning and left them on the table. 

Liam trailed behind her slightly, also keen on the witcher, in his own way. Gwen opened the door with a smile already plastered on her face but it soon dropped, her eyebrows furrowing. 

“Hello, sorceress.” 

A stranger greeted her at the door, two more flanking him. It didn’t take long to recognize his garb and the symbol of the eternal fire sewn into his breast. There was a whooshing sound in her ears, and then her heart was the only thing she could hear for a moment. 

“Liam.” 

She managed a portal in moments, shoving the godling through without another word. Moments later and the soldiers were barreling through the door, pinning her to the floor. She scrambled, kicking and clawing to get away from them. She elbowed one in the face, his nose bursting in a shower of red blood. 

One was on her back, pressing her down with his knee. The one with the broken nose reared back, toppling back against the ground with a grunt. 

“The collar!” One of them was yelling and then suddenly something clicked around her neck 

She froze, her insides coagulating like jelly. She felt cold, nauseous, like she’d been sucked through a space too small for her to fit. The collar buzzed against her neck, heavy and metal. 

“There.” The soldiers got off her and offered each other a satisfied smile, “Much easier to handle this way.” 

She pushed herself back against the wall, trembling. She’d heard of these collars before, though she’d never seen one. They zapped you of magic, pulled and pulled until you were a shell of whoever you’d been before. Tears were already rising in her eyes as the three men stared down at her, glaring. 

“We’ve got some questions for you, sorceress.” 

The man in front wiped the blood away from his nose, smearing it across his face, and then reached back and hit her hard, sending her into blackness.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

She stared at the fire, willing it to bend to her will, but nothing happened. It sputtered in the darkness, sometimes illuminating her three captors, all snoring and content.

Her body ached, her eyes burned from the tears. The ropes they used to bind her to the tree burned and twisted hot against her skin. But worst of all, the only thing she really could think about, was the goddamn collar around her neck. 

She fought against the ropes, despite herself, despite the pain, but it was useless. New tears welled in her eyes but she refused to make a noise. Her hands were bound in front of her, in her lap, and the ropes looped around the tree were tight around her arms and chest. She stared down at her left hand, at her broken fingers and missing fingernails. 

The soldiers were insatiable with their questions. They wanted to know who she was, where she studied, who she’d sent through the portal before they could grab them. Did she know anyone in the area? Were there more magical folk she could point a finger at? They’d stop hurting her if she named a name.

They’d ransacked her home, discovering more than a few traps along the way. One of them had opened a chest in the kitchen and it had exploded, taking a chunk of his leg. 

Now he was lying beside the fire, a bandage wrapped tightly around the wound. He’d be dead in days, a small comfort. Pain radiated from her hand, coming up her arm in electric waves. She tried to keep still, closing her eyes, but with nothing else to focus on the pain seemed ever present. 

Her face felt hot, wet. She could imagine how it looked now, swollen and bruised and bloody. The taste of copper was still on her tongue and what felt like a cut was throbbing under her right eye. 

She hadn’t answered any of their questions, her mouth cemented shut. It went on for hours. They dunked her head in water, holding her there until she thought she would drown. They poured hot water on her legs, watching them blister, and poked and prodded her with a metal spike. 

She opened her eyes again, tears dripping past her lashes. It would end, as these things always ended, in a pyre. The men had already discussed it, taking her to Novigrad, setting her aflame to the delight of the crowds below. She didn’t doubt that that was the plan. 

She stared at the fire again, at the dancing flames, and her mind naturally wandered to Geralt. She could hardly imagine his reaction. Would he know what had happened? She wondered about Liam too, who she’d sent far away. The cave, it was the last portal she’d used and the first one she thought of in that moment. 

It brought her a small amount of comfort to know these imbeciles hadn’t gotten their hands on Liam. She could withstand their torture, she had to, but watching them torture Liam…she wasn’t sure she’d be able to. The thought made her sick to her stomach. 

One of the men groaned in his sleep, turning over, and it brought her attention back to them. She twisted against the ropes one more time, trying to ignore the burns on her arms from the ropes, and then slumped back against the tree.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Liam landed in the clearing with a thump, turning and fighting to get back to the portal in time. It closed almost instantly and he landed back on the ground, pounding at the grass. For a moment, he stayed there, his heart hammering, and then he stood, looking around at where she’d sent him.

Near the cave, he was certain of it, though the portal hadn’t exactly taken him to the entrance. Still, he was certain he was close. He trudged through the trees and mud, fighting to get closer. It took hours to find, even with him running most of the way. He finally made it to the meadow and saw the entrance, almost hidden beneath the tree roots. 

He sprinted towards it, bare feet against the wet grass. He could sense the witcher inside already, his magic giving him away so easily. Liam slid down into the cave and then barreled through to the main, open area. Geralt was kneeling beside a dead Leshen, examining the body. 

“They have her!” Liam was screaming, starling the witcher, “They took her!”

“What?” Geralt stood, meeting the godling halfway as he panted, hands on his knees

“Them solders with the pointy hats.” He wheezed, “They found the house. They took her.”

“Took her where?” Geralt was kneeling in front of the godling, keeping him in place with a serious expression 

“I don’t know.” Liam replied, “She sent me through a portal to here. She couldn’t get away.” 

Suddenly, Liam’s face broke and real fear crossed it. Perhaps the extent of what had happened finally reached his brain and it made him choke, his breath shallow. 

“They can’t have her.” He whispered, “They can’t have her!” 

He slammed closed fists against Geralt’s chest, a tantrum building. Geralt barely registered the godling, staring off at a space behind his head. He stood, taking long steps out of the cave towards the entrance as the godling followed, whimpering to himself. 

It would take hours to get back to the house, even without stopping. They’d have her, the whole time. His heart was hard in his chest, faster than normal. He rushed out of the cave, pausing momentarily in the meadow, glaring at nothing in particular. 

Liam burst through the cave entrance as well, still raging. His fists were balled tightly at his side and his eyes, usually a light green, were glowing like yellow orbs. Geralt studied him for a moment, turning fully to face the godling. 

They both started walking. Geralt tried to ignore the way the leaves were moving away from the godling or that his eyes were still that unnatural yellow. For nearly two hours they marched through the woods as Liam seemed to grow darker and darker, his fists tight. Geralt paused for only a moment, checking the setting sun to see if they were headed in the right direction.

In the next moment, Liam yelled, something deep and altogether alarming, and a portal opened up in front of him. The entire forest seemed to go dark and the portal had an unnatural, black outline. He stepped through and Geralt jumped to make it through before it closed. They both landed in the kitchen of Gwen’s home and paused, the bravado that pulsed through Liam slowly leaving. 

His eyes went back to green and he glanced around the room in alarm, lifting up pots and pans childishly. Geralt left the room and walked to the stairs, listening hard. No sounds, no breathing. He steadied himself and then went up the stairs, fully expecting to find her corpse. 

It was empty. Liam searched each room, looking under beds and in the tub. Geralt was more pragmatic. He went back downstairs and surveyed the room again. A puddle of blood, not hers. It belonged to a man, human, one of the hunters. At least she’d gotten a good hit in. Another puddle of blood, and chunks of meat, on the other side of the room. The chest in front of the carnage was singed, a trap. 

“How many were there?” He asked as the godling came back down the stairs, looking distraught

“Three.” He replied, wringing his hands in the rags he called clothes 

“Soon to be two.” Geralt nodded to the gory mess and stood 

They hadn’t hurt her here but there was a strange smell in the air, something that didn’t belong. Dimeritium. 

“They collared her.” Geralt mumbled, following the tracks from the kitchen to the front door again 

The one with the leg wound left a clear trail to the edge of the trees before someone had bandaged him up properly. Still, Dimeritium was uncommon and the smell stuck out amongst the wilds. It would lead straight to her, as long as the collar was on. 

“Stay here.” Geralt commanded, “In case she comes back.” 

The godling went to fight but Geralt stepped through the doorway and closed the door in his face. He followed his nose from there, taking a worn trail into a deeper section of the woods. Already, the sun had set and was replaced by a black sky. The moon was waning and barely cast off any light; fine by him, he fought better in the dark. 

He hiked silently, following his nose and keeping his ears pricked the entire time. The calmness that had overtaken him was due in no small part to his training. In the back of his mind, pushed far down, he imagined Gwen shackled and bound and it make something animalistic rise up in him. 

He first heard the sounds of a dying fire and then snoring. The camp was just ahead. The bracelet on his wrist began to glow and he knew he was close. He managed to make her out, slumped back against a tree. She was awake and alive, her heart thumping in time. Relief washed over him and he took a moment to breathe, closing his eyes, trying to stay in control. 

Her head snapped up when he stepped into the clearing, the sleeping men barely stirring. Her throat constricted almost immediately and the tears she’d finally gotten under control welled up in her eyes once more. Geralt knelt in front of her silently, his expression unreadable. 

“Gwen.” His voice was low, almost too quiet to hear

He raised his hands, like he was going to touch her, and then stopped as he saw the damage and the injuries. One hand hovered over her broken fingers, all missing fingernails. The other swiped a thumb beneath her blackened eye, under the cut there. 

After that, he moved efficiently, slicing through the rope that held her against the tree. She heaved out a sob as she fell forward, her insides shifting uncomfortably. Broken ribs, she figured, and a whole lot of bruises. 

For a moment, Geralt stayed beside her, taking it all in. He still hadn’t said anything and his stoic expression refused to break. In the next moment though, he stood, unsheathing a sword with barely a noise. 

Gwen held onto consciousness long enough to see him toe one of the men awake, cocking his head to the side slightly. The man gaped, his mouth opening and closing in surprise but no words coming out. Geralt apparently thought better of using a sword, because he dropped it and grabbed the man by the collar, shoving his face into the flames. 

After that, she let go, lying forward in the leaves and giving in.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

“Gwen?”

His voice sounded far away. She blinked once, twice, and managed to make out a vague outline of him. She couldn’t focus, the collar messing with her mind. She focused harder and he came into view, leaning over her, the rest of the world blurry around him. 

“You came for me.” She croaked and a noticeable grimace crossed his face 

He touched the collar, sending a wave of pain through her, and then pulled back. It was locked somehow, without using a key. She’d tried to take it off when they first put it on but it just made her sick. 

He abandoned the collar for a moment and helped her sit up, leaning back against a tree truck. Her head felt heavy and full of liquid as she tried to balance. As the sun began to rise, lighting the small meadow, Geralt’s stoic expression finally broke. His face held a mess of emotions he wasn’t supposed to have, all crossing in various degrees. 

“We need to get that off you.” He nodded to the collar and she sighed

“It’s locked.” She replied, “I don’t know how to get it off.” 

She glanced behind him, noting the mutilated bodies of the soldiers who had taken her. She hoped they suffered, all of them. She hoped they begged for their lives. 

“Then we have to go to Novigrad.” 

“What?” She frowned, sitting up fully with a hard gasp 

“Dijkstra is there.” Geralt reasoned, “If anyone knows a person who can get that collar off, it’s him.” 

“There are a lot of Eternal Fire soldiers in Novigrad.” She spat in return, her busted lip opening 

Geralt watched a trickle of blood run from her lip down her chin with a frown. She heaved in a shivering breath, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. He was right, of course. She couldn’t just live with this collar. It was slowly draining her, slowly killing her. 

“Just…just give me a moment.” She gave in, defeated, and hung her head 

Geralt stood at that, going to his bag and rifling through it. She could feel tears rising, the desperation, the fear. She blinked them away when he returned, holding her hands gingerly in her lap. 

“Gotta clean you up before we can go anywhere.” He stated, pulling out supplies 

She nodded stoically but didn’t say a word. Geralt didn’t look all too pleased with the idea either but he dutifully mixed ingredients in a bowl and then added water. He dipped a rag into the concoction and gently wiped it against the cut on her face. It cooled the screaming wound immediately and she sighed, glad to have taught him a few things in their years of friendship. 

He continued with the mixture, wiping it down her jaw, her nose, her lip. He spread some beneath the collar, careful to move it as little as possible, and it made her feel less nauseous for a while. When he finally came to her battered hands, he paused, staring down at the left. 

“I have to reset them now…or you’ll never use them again.” 

She knew that’s what he would say, she’d been preparing herself all morning, but a jolt of fear still crept up her spine. She nodded and he gave her a wooden spoon to place between her teeth. 

He systematically reset her fingers, snapping them back into place one at a time, as she gritted her teeth down into the wood. She screamed, twice, and drool escaped down her chin as she sobbed, the pain shooting up her arm. When he was finally done, he wrapped her fingers and hand, using some of the salve he’d created to try to soothe the pain. 

“Those bastards.” She let the spoon drop from her mouth to the ground, “Those fucking bastards.” 

Tears trickled from her eyes and she sobbed again, her ribs shifting uncomfortably. Geralt took a moment, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite place, and then sank down to the ground behind her. He gently pulled her back, more gently than she thought he was capable of, and kept her pressed against his chest. 

She continued to sob, her unbroken fingers twisting into his shirt as he placed his chin on her head. He wrapped his arms around her, softly, and kept her pressed against him until she finally calmed down enough to stop crying. The night replayed, over and over, in her head every time she closed her eyes. 

He gave her water after that, and it helped, and then he dragged her to her feet. She felt shaky, nauseous again now that she was standing, but she pushed herself forward nonetheless. They’d never make it to Novigrad walking, not like this, but she had a trick she wanted to try anyway. 

They shuffled back to her house together, Geralt wrapping his arm around her waist to keep her upright. She had to pause every so often to catch her breath, to try to handle the pain, but they made it back before the sun was at its highest. 

Liam was there, pacing the kitchen floors, when she got through the door. He rushed to her and Geralt barely had time to grab him before he barreled into her. He noticed the injuries after that, his face a mess of emotion. 

She sank into a chair at the table, issuing orders to Geralt about the things he’d need from upstairs. Liam hovered close by, watching her with giant green eyes. Her things were strewn about the kitchen, pots and pans and herbs scattered across the ground. Liam followed her gaze and then rushed from place to place, filling up her cabinets with everything on the floor. 

“I’ll clean it!” He stated, running past, “You won’t even notice. Good as new, I promise.” 

She managed a small smile, flinching slightly, and then Geralt made his way back downstairs. He carried a small bird skull in one hand and a velvet bag in the other. She took the skull, placing it on the table with the beak facing the west. In the bag, she took a sprinkle of ashes, drawing a circle around the skull. 

“Use a spell, anything. It needs to be charged.”

Geralt did as he was told, muttering a spell beneath his breath and miming it on his hand. The ashes burst to life, shimmering light purple light all the way around. She nodded and he took the skull in his palm as she stood, stepping close to his chest. 

“Here goes.” She muttered sarcastically, “Let’s hope the collar doesn’t chop my head off.” 

“Doesn’t wha-“ But it was too late, they were bathed in purple light a moment later and then were crashing down in the next

She groaned, her ribs shifting painfully as she landed on the ground. Geralt hadn’t faired much better, sprawled back against the ground. She slowly glanced up, pleased to see it had worked. They were in a dark alleyway, right beside an inn. A mark on the cobblestone glowed purple for a moment and then disappeared entirely. 

“Get a room on the top floor.” She stated, eyeing the steps warily, “I’ll meet you there.”

Geralt gave her a lingering look, somewhere between concern and guilt, and then headed into the inn. She limped up the stairs, using the railing to keep from face planting every few steps. When she finally made it to the top, he was there, opening the door and ushering her inside. 

“I should go find Djikstra.” He stated as she sank onto the side of the bed with a sigh

“We can go tomorrow.” She replied, “Right now…right now I just need to rest.”

Geralt helped her lie back and then sat down on the edge of the bed. She took short, shallow breaths, anything to ease the pain in her ribs. There was a moment when it looked like he was going to leave without her, to go search for the spymaster on his own, but then he sighed and brushed a stray hair from her face. 

She closed her eyes but then opened them again, memories of that night flitting past her eyelids. Her body ached, she felt like she hadn’t slept in days, and the collar kept her just nauseous enough that she stayed very close to the edge of the bed, just in case. Geralt sank down on the other side of the bed, propping himself up with his elbow and staring down at her. 

She stared up at the ceiling in return. She felt…hopeless. Was that part of what the collar did? Drained her of emotion too? She glanced over at Geralt, at the emotions so clear on his own face. Guilt, fear, sadness. 

“Witchers aren’t supposed to have emotions.” She mumbled, tired 

He raised his eyebrows to show he’d heard her but didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned down, pressing his forehead against the side of her head and closing his eyes. For a moment they just laid there, his hand snaking around to the other side of her face to keep her pressed against him. 

“I almost lost you.” He breathed the words and something crunched painfully deep in her belly 

She wasn’t sure what to say, but tears appeared in her eyes nonetheless. They trickled past her lashes, falling down the sides of her face. Geralt didn’t move, just kept his face pressed against her hair and his hand on her opposite cheek. 

“I’m scared.” She whispered after a moment, “I’m so scared, Geralt.”

He pulled away, propping himself up above her again. His eyebrows furrowed but she closed her eyes, trying and failing to stop the tears. Her face felt raw, sore, and her hand was starting to throb again. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” Geralt whispered

She managed to open her eyes again and offer him a small, halfhearted smile, before she closed them again. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down, and the tears finally slowed and eventually stopped. Geralt moved from the bed and her heart leapt into her throat. 

“Don’t leave.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He assured her, going over to his pack 

He poured a jug of water from the dresser into a bowl and then sprinkled in something she couldn’t see. He brought the bowl over to the bed and dipped a clean rag into it, gently wiping away the poultice he’d smeared on her earlier. 

The smell made her drowsy right away, despite her body fighting to stay awake, fighting to be on guard. He wiped away the poultice and then dragged his fingers through her hair. Finally he mumbled a witchers spell and her eyes fluttered open. 

“Sleep.” The magic trickled from his hand to her face

“Doesn’t work…” She managed before her eyes closed and she plummeted into unconsciousness


End file.
